


Purple is for Emperors

by Fullmetalcarer



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Attempted Kidnapping, BAMF Charles, Charles You Slut, Class Issues, Dom/sub, Dominance, Erik Has Feelings, Erik has Issues, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Fluff, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Murder, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Rape Recovery, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Submission, Successful Kidnapping, Violence, car crashes, still have powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-10-17 05:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 75,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10587507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fullmetalcarer/pseuds/Fullmetalcarer
Summary: Erik sat on the edge of the bed, slowly stroking his cock.Charles knelt on the floor in front of him, naked and bound with purple cords.Can Erik and Charles find happiness in a world where they don't fit in?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this was a short PWP that insisted on having a plot.

Erik sat on the edge of the bed, slowly stroking his cock. He was wearing his pants, fly unzipped, and his shirt, completely unbuttoned. He was barefoot.

Charles knelt in front of him, naked and bound in purple cords. His hands were secured behind his back and linked to his ankles by a length of rope. His ankles were tied together. Rope spiralled round his thighs and torso and throat. Twin cords trailed down his back, disappeared into the cleft of his buttocks and reappeared to wrap around his balls and the base of his erect cock. A complicated arrangement of slip-knots meant he couldn't rest his ass on his heels or push right up onto his knees without choking himself. He was forced into an awkward half-kneeling position.

Erik admired the contrast of the dark cords against Charles' pale skin; where he wasn't flushed a beautiful rosy red of course. He watched Charles' thigh and calf muscles twitch in a continuous cycle of contraction and relaxation as he fought to stay in position. He followed a bead of sweat as it slid down his forehead, contoured round his eyebrow and traversed his cheek to tremble like a diamond drop on his jaw. Charles' cornflower blue eyes were wide open and fixed on Erik.

Using his powers, Erik slid a lightly lubed, stainless steel dildo between the two cords that covered Charies' hole. He felt a spike of anticipation from Charles. He pressed it gently against the hot, moist flesh. Charles bit his plump, red lower lip. Erik pushed just the tip of the dildo in. Charles gave a tiny gasp. With one smooth motion, Erik pushed the rest of it in. Charles didn't make a sound, but his mind was a riot of pleasure and pain.

Erik had to grasp the base of his cock to stop himself coming. The sensation of Charles clenching on the metal of the dildo was almost overwhelming. He eased the dildo out completely. Again, not a sound from Charles, but a wordless surge of wanting to be filled, needing to be fucked. Erik drove it in again, thickening it to make Charles feel fuller. He kept fucking Charles with long, slow strokes, slightly increasing the width of the dildo with every stroke, until he could feel Charles couldn't take any more.

He'd been deliberately avoiding Charles' prostate. Now he targeted it, hitting it with every thrust. Charles let out a hastily choked off moan. His mind lit up like a firework. Erik stopped thrusting, pressed the dildo against Charles' prostate and made it vibrate, slowly at first, then faster, then unbearably fast. Erik was so close, but he was bound and determined not to come until Charles did. Somehow he held on as Charles' mind whited out with an overload of agony and bliss. Charles cried out and spurted over his belly and thighs, then fell sideways onto the carpet and lay still.

Erik staggered to his feet, stood over Charles, fisted his cock and came over his face and the purple cords that bound his neck. He collapsed on the floor beside him. He was in the perfect place, the only place, and Charles had brought him there.

He took a long moment to surface, get his breath back and gather his thoughts. He gently eased the dildo out and used a sliver of metal from it to cut the ropes off Charles. He picked him up, carried him to the bed and laid him on a towel. He fetched a bowl of warm water and a wash cloth from the bathroom. Gently and thoroughly he cleaned the sweat and come from Charles' face and body. He was still completely out of it, radiating exhausted, aching contentment. Erik folded the bedclothes over him and gave himself a quick wipe down.

Charles, Charles, you need to drink something.

Wordless grumbling.

Erik grinned.

Come on, sit up and have a nice glass of water.

I'd rather have a gin and tonic.

Erik laughed.

Charles opened his eyes, smiled a little blearily and let Erik prop him up against a stack of pillows. He sipped at the water until he'd emptied the glass. Erik wriggled into the cocoon of bedclothes and wrapped his arms round him. Charles smiled at him again, a smile full of warmth and pride.

"You did so well Erik. Everything was perfect; the ropes, the dildo, not coming until I had, then coming on my face. You did everything exactly as I'd instructed you to, my beautiful, strong, obedient sub."

He sent Erik a wave of love and affection and "good, perfect, lovely".

Erik luxuriated in his Dom's praise and approval.

Charles stroked his hair and pressed delicate kisses to his eyelids and cheekbones.

"I'm so lucky, Erik. Six years with you. Thank god we found each other."

Erik would never forget meeting a nineteen year old Charles. He'd been honourably discharged from the army - Mutant Special Forces - and had been working as a bodyguard for a billionaire and his family who were so objectionable they deserved to be kidnapped.

He'd given up on finding a Dominant. Ever since puberty hit, he'd been told he was too tall, too aggressive and what he wanted was wrong, strange and unnatural. A submissive shouldn't want the kind of things that Erik did. A submissive should submit and that meant getting penetrated. Erik had tried. He'd desperately, desperately wanted to submit, but something in him rebelled at the thought of bottoming. Various Dominants had topped him in various ways. It had always been absolutely miserable for Erik and he'd never gotten anywhere near subspace. Erik being Erik, misery had turned to anger. He'd got into fights with his last two Doms, fights he'd won. In the end he'd given up. He'd Dom'd for Doms who'd been sub-curious. He'd Dom'd for submissives who hadn't felt ready for a "real" Dom. He'd Dom'd for switches and for the non-aligned. He'd convinced himself he neither needed nor wanted a Dominant.

Then there'd been Charles.

**Six years ago**

Erik escorted his clients from the limo, into the foyer of the museum and up the broad, sweeping staircase to the glittering function room. They were attending a benefit in aid of a new Ancient Civilisations wing. Erik foresaw an evening of boredom and not having enough to do. The money was good, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could stand doing this; babysitting spoilt, rich assholes.

He let his powers slide over all the metal in the room; silverware, jewellery (including piercings), museum exhibits, the steelwork in the walls and the guns carried by the security guards.

That's amazing. I've never encountered a mutation like yours before.

The voice was in his head. It sounded like upper-class British English and it felt like a mild Spring breeze.

Erik looked around. A kid in an immaculate tuxedo was walking towards him. He stopped in front of Erik, smiled (and what a smile) and held out his hand. Erik hesitated, then shook the kid's hand. His grip was surprisingly strong. He was slim, shorter than Erik and fair skinned, with floppy dark hair like someone out of a Brit rom-com. His brows were thick and dark over very blue eyes, so blue Erik would have suspected he was wearing tinted contacts if he hadn't been standing close enough to see otherwise. His nose was a bit too big for his face, with a distinct bump in the middle and a couple of freckles on the bridge. His mouth was the main event though; such full, plump, obscenely red lips. Erik felt a warmth in his groin. He realised he was still holding the kid's hand and quickly let go.

"I'm so sorry, that was terrible rude of me, but I was rather carried away by your mutation. I'm Charles Xavier, a telepath whose manners are usually much better."

His voice sounded the same as it had in Erik's head.

"I think you're making a mistake. I'm not one of the guests."

"Oh, I know. Not from peeking in your head, I promise I'm behaving myself now, but there's an attentiveness about you, a businesslike, no-nonsense feel, which suggests you're working rather than partying. Also, your suit is good, but not that good."

Erik was startled into a laugh. He immediately choked it down.

"Since you know I'm working, you'll understand our conversation is over."

The boy pouted. He actually fucking pouted. Erik tore his gaze away from those sinful lips.

"Don't be like that. Trust me, no one's planning anything nefarious, believe me, I'd know. People tend to broadcast that sort of thing. Besides, I could freeze the whole room if I needed to."

How casually he mentioned his power. He must be a pretty high level mutant. Or a liar.

"Couldn't you pretend I'm a suspicious character who you need to check out?"

Erik was checking him out. Charies gave off confusing signals. If someone had described him to Erik he'd have thought he was a sub. His looks and flirtatious manner suggested a submissive. But there was something about his direct gaze and his confidence, bordering on arrogance, that whispered Dominance. Maybe he was a switch? Maybe it was just because he was rich? The Patek Phillipe on his wrist could buy Erik's apartment and car.

He leaned into Erik. He could feel his body heat.

"Actually, I feel I should warn you some deep, dark plotting is going on."

He paused.

Against his better judgement, Erik leant towards him, magnetically - hah - attracted.

"The trustees are planning on fleecing the donors for everything they've got," he whispered, raising those dark eyebrows.

Erik snorted. Christ, the little fucker was charming. Probably fancied a bit of rough with one of the help. Probably had daddy issues. Erik was likely old enough to be his father.

He put his hand on Erik's wrist. Erik stilled and felt a powerful urge to fall to his knees. Perhaps Charles was a Dom.

"Why don't we get out of here? I'm bored, at least I was before I saw you, you're bored, we could be doing something so much more interesting."

Everything in Erik screamed "Yes!"

Judging by the smug look on Charles' face, he'd broadcast that. Erik steeled himself.

"Some of us have to earn our money. Go find someone else to play with."

Just for an instant the kid looked genuinely hurt, then a supercilious smile curved his lips.

"Your loss."

He sauntered away and started talking to a stunningly beautiful blonde woman who was wearing a sub's collar in platinum and what Erik assumed were diamonds. They both glanced over at him. Erik determinedly ignored them. He did his best to ignore Charles for the rest of the evening, but found himself tracking him by his watch. He also kept an eye on his clients, who were at risk of alcohol poisoning judging by the rate they were drinking, but not much else.

After the main course, Charles' watch left the primary function room and headed down a corridor. He felt the skin warmed Patek Phillipe near a door handle. He sensed the handle and the hinges swing open then closed. The room contained a lot of metal pipes and fixtures. A bathroom. Charies' watch was joined by a large stainless steel watch. Erik felt zippers being unzipped. Well, it was a bathroom. The two watches were very close together. They started moving up and down in a regular rhythm. What the hell? The rhythm got faster and the temperature of the metal went up, presumably from increased body heat. Suddenly Erik knew exactly what Charles was doing.

Erik's cock stiffened. He wrenched his powers away from the two watches and did breathing exercises until his semi subsided. He'd just about regained control when he spotted Charles returning to his seat, followed by a taller, older, louche looking Dom. Charles looked like the cat who'd got the cream. His gaze fixed on Erik and he gave a tiny, dirty smile, before sitting and concentrating on the dessert course. The little shit.

Dessert was followed by a cheese board and speeches. One of the speakers was excellent. Erik knew next to nothing of the ancient civilisations of Central America, but she made them sound fascinating. The man who followed her was not so good. His material was OK, all about the design and funding of the planned wing, but his delivery was dry. The audience didn't pay much attention to either of them; too busy drinking and talking.

A familiar watch approached Erik.

"Well, Stella was super, but Henry was more than a touch lacklustre, I thought. What do you think?"

"I think you should go away and leave me alone."

Charles frowned.

"But, Erik, I need amusement. I need stimulating conversation and my table is about as stimulating as . . . as a not very stimulating thing."

He was slightly drunk.

"I'm pretty sure I didn't tell you my name and I'm also sure you said you'd stay out of my head."

Charles made a "pfft" noise and waved his hand dismissively.

"People broadcast their names, I don't need to go looking."

"You could try not listening."

Charles blue gaze hardened.

"Between the ages of twelve to fifteen, I shielded hard enough to avoid picking up surface thoughts and feelings. I was desperate not to make people uncomfortable or uneasy. I didn't want them to fear and hate me. All I got for my trouble were killer migraines, Niagara-like nosebleeds and a hideous sense of disassociation. Never again. I am what I am and proud of it. If people are freaked out by my mutation, that's their problem, not mine."

Erik returned that blue gaze.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I know what it's like to be feared for your mutation. I'm real militant about the use of powers. I don't expect you to have to be less than you are."

Charles smiled. Not flirty, not snarky, just delighted and a little shy. A wave of warmth flowed through Erik's head.

"I still want you to go away."

The kid laughed.

"Just when I thought we were getting somewhere. Come on, who's going to entertain me if you won't?"

"You didn't seem to have any problem finding someone to entertain you between the main and the dessert."

More laughter.

"Now who's eavesdropping? He was OK, but very much my second choice. A poor substitute for you."

Erik sighed.

"Just give up, kid. You're obviously used to getting what you want, but you're not getting me."

"You're going to drive me to desperate measures. I going to have to - "

"Charles!"

A pretty blonde girl, in a body-con dress that showed off all her curves, hurled herself at Charles. Erik's combat training kicked in and he had stop himself from wrestling her to the ground.

"You really do have appalling timing," grumbled Charles, returning her enthusiastic embrace with markedly less enthusiasm.

"What do you mean? The K'iche' dancers are just about to perform. You said you didn't want to miss them."

She glanced at Erik, then looked him up and down. A broad grin curved her lips.

"Oh, I see why you've lost interest in the K'iche'. Who's this?"

"This is Erik didn't-get-his-last-name. Erik, this hoyden is my sister, Raven."

Raven smacked Charles' shoulder.

"Who are you calling a hoyden, you slut?"

"I beg your forgiveness, now go away," said Charles, glaring at her.

"Yes, and take your brother with you," added Erik.

Charles gave him a hurt look.

"Is he bothering you?" asked Raven.

"Yes," said Erik.

"Of course not," said Charles.

They spoke at the same time. Raven sniggered.

"OK, tiger, time for you to leave the nice man alone and come watch the dancing."

"Noooooo," moaned Charles, as his sister started to drag him bodily away.

"Apologies for my brother sexually harassing you. If you want to sue, we're filthy rich so it's definitely worth it."

"How very dare you! Of course I wasn't sexually harassing him. Tell her, Erik," he said, trying to pull away from her.

"He wasn't sexually harassing me, just being incredibly annoying," said Erik, stifling a laugh.

Charles gave him another hurt look.

"I thought we'd connected, Erik. I thought we had something."

"You've had too many drinks. Now go with your sister."

"Come peacefully, Charles, or I'll have to use force."

"Just you bloody try it, I'll make you think you're Senator Kelly."

"Come on, Charles," said Raven, hauling him off.

He cast a last despairing look at Erik, who hardened his heart and gave him a stoney stare.

"But he's a mutant, Raven, like us. His mutation's amazing, metallokinesis, it's beautiful, the way it feels when he uses it. I wanted you to show him yours."

"You mean you wanted to show him yours."

Erik didn't hear his reply as they were engulfed in a crowd of chattering people. He focused solely on his clients during the dances and as everyone dispersed afterwards.

"Saw you talking to the Xavier boy," said Mr Worthington, as Erik ushered him and his wife to their car.

"Yes, sir."

"What was that about?"

Erik wanted to reply, "None of your fucking business". Instead he said:

"He had a few questions about close protection, sir."

Worthington snorted.

"I bet he did. Boy's notorious. Anytime, anywhere, that's what they call him because that's how he fucks. Supposed to be a Dom, but I've heard his sexual preferences are much more like a sub's."

Erik felt a powerful urge to wrap the car fender round Worthington's neck.

He drove them home, checked the internal and external security and handed over to the night shift. As he lay in bed in his small room in the staff quarters, he thought of Charles. A Dom who, allegedly, fucked like a sub. He took himself in hand and jerked off, imagining that perfect mouth filled with his cock. Cleaning himself off, he wondered if he should have taken him up on his offer. Chances were he'd never see Charles again.


	2. Chapter 2

Erik had a long weekend off, so he spent it at his apartment. He'd have been a lot better off if he'd given up the lease and stayed full time in the Worthington's staff quarters. He needed to get away from the obnoxious assholes, though.

He was washing up last night's dinner dishes and this morning's breakfast things, when there was a knock at the door. He wasn't expecting anyone. There wasn't anyone to expect. If it was Jehovah's Witnesses they were in for a mouthful.

He opened the door. Charles Xavier stood there, smiling. He was dressed in ridiculously tight, white jeans and a clinging lilac sweater in a fine wool. He looked like everyone's idea of the ideal sub and a little like a rent-boy.

Charles smile broadened. He'd obviously picked up the rent-boy bit.

"What are you doing here?"

"I want to apologise."

"Fine, consider yourself forgiven. Goodbye."

Erik made to shut the door. Charles leaned against it.

"No, Erik, please, just listen, please."

There was an edge of command mixed in with his pleas. Erik opened the door a little wider.

"Thank you. I acted like an arse at the museum gig. I'm sorry. I'd like to take you out to lunch to apologise. Before you turn me down, I'd just like to say that I'm fascinated by your mutation. It's rare that I meet a mutant as powerful as myself and I'd love to compare notes. Now you can turn me down, though I'm hoping you won't."

Erik knew he should say no. He wanted to say yes. Charles looked at him with his big, blue eyes, not putting on a pleading expression or trying to be cute. If anything, he looked rather serious. That was what decided it.

"OK, but I'm paying."

Charles smiled assent and Erik felt a ripple of happiness wash over him.

He summoned his battered leather jacket by the zipper and dropped the lock with his powers. He felt a spike of interest from Charles.

"There's a decent coffee shop just down the block," Erik said. 

"Actually, I've got somewhere in mind if that's alright with you?"

"Fine, so long as it's not expensive."

"Oh, I'm sure you can stretch to a Michelin-starred restaurant."

"Hah, hah, very funny," said Erik.

"I am hilarious, aren't I?" replied Charles, with a winning smile.

"Modest too."

"Modesty is one of my finest qualities. Would you like me to list the others?"

"Do they include arrogance, pushiness and way too much persistence?"

"It's like you've known me for years," marvelled Charles.

"I feel like I've known you for years."

"That's nice."

"Let me rephrase that; I feel like I've aged years since I've known you."

"Well, maturity looks good on you, Erik."

Charles shivered slightly and rubbed his arms. The sun was warm, but the breeze was cold. Erik couldn't believe he was going to do this. He shrugged off his jacket and shoved it at Charles.

"Thank you, Erik. Oh, you've warmed it up nicely for me. I love really old leather, the smell, the way it cracks and softens. You're going to have to wrestle me out of this."

That conjured up all kinds of images Erik was best off not contemplating in the presence of a telepath. A telepath . . .

"How did you know where I lived?"

"I didn't mind whammy you - that's what Raven calls it - if that's what you're thinking. We have a private detective on retainer. I got him to find out."

Erik stopped and stared at him.

Charles stared back. Comprehension dawned on his face.

"God, that sounds ominously stalkerish, doesn't it? Now I need to apologise again. Honestly, Erik, I instructed him to find out your address and anything he thought pertinent to a lunch date and that's all, I swear."

He looked and sounded genuinely rattled.

"What do you mean by pertinent?" demanded Erik.

"Well, you don't have a history of kidnapping rich college boys and you're Jewish."

"What the fuck does me being Jewish have to do with anything?"

"That's why I choose the deli."

Erik got a burst of:

ohgodi'vefuckeditupIreallylikehimandi'vefuckeditallupasperusualwiththeonesIactuallylike

"What deli?"

"Er, the one we're standing outside of?"

Erik turned. They were standing outside Russ & Daughters Cafe. Erik had passed it before, but had never gone in.

"All the reviews say it's really good, the best for miles around. I didn't know if you kept kosher. I didn't want to take you someplace where you wouldn't be able to eat anything. Christ, Raven said I was being an idiot and I am aren't I?"

Erik was in two minds. He was pissed off about the private detective thing, but he was flattered by the amount of thought Charles had put into this. Charles had wanted to find out about Erik's needs and ensure they were met. It warmed him to think of a Dom wanting to give him what he needed.

"Using a private detective was idiotic. Wanting to do something nice for me was, is, well, nice. You're forgiven, again."

Charles clasped his arm. His bare arm. Every iota of Erik's attention focused on the warmth and pressure of Charles' fingers on his skin.

"Thank you." He squeezed then released Erik's arm. "Now, let's go and get lunch."

The deli had a pleasant café at the back. The server who seated them deferred to Erik, presumably thinking he was the Dom. Charles didn't seem to care. The prices were a bit steeper than Erik would usually have paid, but not exorbitant.

Charles plunged straight into asking about Erik's mutation. Erik explained that he could sense and manipulate all metals, but ferrous ones were the easiest. He could also feel and focus magnetic fields:

"I can use them to levitate."

Charles eyes widened. 

"You're kidding? Show me!"

It came out so much like a command that Erik was on his feet and hovering a few inches above the floor before he knew it.

"That's amazing. You're amazing. Do you have any limits in terms of mass when you're manipulating metal?"

"I'm not sure I've reached them. I was in an African trouble spot - can't tell you where, I'd have to kill you - when the building we were in came under bombardment. It started to collapse. I managed to stabilise it using the steel superstructure."

"How big was it?"

"About thirty stories."

Charles gazed at him in wonder. If Erik had been the kind of man who blushed, he'd have blushed.

"Another time we needed to cross a river, a wide river. There was an island in the middle and a bridge with two spans, one on either side of the island. Trouble was, the second span had been bombed to fuck. So, we all climbed on board the remaining span and I lifted it, and us, up and over and set one end on the far shore. Holding it all together while everyone got off was a bastard. Lifting it had totally fucked the structural integrity. Once I let go it all crashed into the river."

"Doesn't it exhaust you, manipulating huge masses of metal?"

Charles looked absolutely fascinated. Erik could feel the weight of his attention. A pleasant pressure, holding him down, safe and secure.

"Yes. I've found that using gestures helps. I don't need to wave my arms around, but it aids my focus."

"That's interesting. I've found the same. When I was younger I used to press two fingers to my temple." He demonstrated. "If I'm trying anything particularly tricky I still revert to doing it."

He was leaning forward, fingers resting against his temple, blue eyes very intense. His telepathy felt like a quiescent thundercloud, not actually thundering and lightening at the moment, but pregnant with this vast potential. Erik felt extraordinarily relaxed, drifting, sinking, losing himself in blue eyes and . . .

"Erik," said Charles sharply.

Erik surfaced.

"Sorry, don't know quite what happened there."

Charles narrowed his eyes.

"You don't know what happened?"

"No, guess I must be more tired than I thought."

Charles looked as though he was going to say something, then appeared to change his mind.

Their food came. Eggs Benny for Charles, Pastrami Russ for Erik and latkes with applesauce and sour cream to share. Between mouthfuls of food - "Mmmmmm, this is so good, Erik." - Charles told him about his telepathy.

"I can't remember ever not having it. I think I was about four before I realised other people didn't have voices in their heads. A lot of it didn't make sense to me when I was little - grown-up stuff - so I just used to ignore it. Of course some thoughts and feelings were distressing, very distressing at times, but I gradually learned to filter them out. I had a terrible habit, still do, of answering questions before people actually asked them and I went through a phase of contradicting people when their thoughts didn't match their words."

Erik laughed. "That must have made you popular."

Charles grimaced. "God, I was such a brat. And don't say I still am."

"Thought never crossed my mind."

"We both know that's a lie. Anyway, as I got older, I discovered I could project my thoughts. I was twelve when I realised I could change people's minds; have them forget things, give them false memories, make them think they wanted to do what I wanted them to. There were several incidents where I behaved very badly. I scared people. I scared myself."

"Was that when you started shielding so hard?"

"You remembered our conversation at the museum," said Charles, looking delighted.

Erik nodded, basking in Charles' pleasure.

"Yes, that's when I started shielding. All telepaths shield of course, we have to or we'd go mad, but I was trying to cut myself off altogether. I kept on trying for nigh on three years. Made myself ill. Finally my mother took me to a specialist, a telepath herself. I think she hoped the doctor would put me on suppressants, instead she referred me to a psionic psychiatrist. She was great. Helped me sort myself out."

His serious expression was replaced by a sarcastic smirk.

"And here I am, the model of mental health you see here today."

Erik smiled, but he couldn't help pitying a young Charles, struggling to suppress his mutation and with a mother who wanted his telepathy chemically controlled.

"What's your range?"

"About three hundred miles."

"Three hundred?"

"Yes."

Erik was impressed and turned on by the thought of so much power. Charles put his hand on Erik's. His fingers were short and verging on stubby. Erik's skin prickled under his touch.

"I'm not that impressive. You could destroy armies."

"And you could command them."

"Are we planning on conquering the world, Erik?"

'We probably could."

Charles laughed. "That sounds like terribly hard work to me. I think I'd rather not bother."

"Fine, I'll just have to do it on my own."

"Will you be a benevolent dictator?"

"No, I'll be merciless and quixotic," said Erik, with a manic grin.

"I might have to oppose you, then. I'll work in secret to undermine your rule, a sort of mutant Scarlet Pimpernel."

"You could always try seducing me to the side of goodness and light."

Erik couldn't quite believe he'd said that. Charles looked highly amused. He slid his hand up Erik's forearm. Erik felt the iron in his blood flow faster.

"So, I must sacrifice my virtue for the greater good? Not that I've got much virtue to sacrifice. Would you need a lot of seducing, Erik?"

He dug his fingernails into Erik's arm, very lightly, and dragged them down to his wrist. Erik gazed at the four red lines on his skin in a trance. A trance that was broken by Charles' phone ringing.

Charles swiped the screen, swore and put it to his ear.

"Raven, I'm so sorry, I completely forgot, I'm on my way now, yes, yes, I know, yes, I'm sorry, I'm very sorry, I'll make it up to you, yes, sorry, bye."

He bit his lip, his plump, red lip and said:

"I'm so sorry, Erik, I've got to run. I forgot all about poor Raven. I'm supposed to be helping her with a thing. I've had a lovely time. I'll be in touch, if that's OK with you?"

He got up from his chair.

'Of course it's OK," said Erik, knowing he should put Charles off, but unable to bring himself to do so. "Go, go."

Charles hesitated, then dipped down, kissed Erik on the cheek and darted out of the cafe. Erik didn't do anything ridiculous, like pressing his fingers to his cheek, but he wanted to. He finished his food and had a coffee. He took his time, running over the lunch date time and time again. Everything Charles had said and done. His own words and actions. That strange sensation of drifting and sinking he'd experienced. He pulled himself together. Time to pay the bill. Where was his wallet? In the inner pocket of his jacket. His old leather jacket that Charles was wearing.

Erik started laughing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was feeling a bit meh about this - liked the first chapter, not sure about the second - when it hit me, the solution to all problems. Violence!
> 
> I've never written action before, so comments would be greatly appreciated.

When Erik returned from his morning run, there were three voicemails on his cell from an unknown number. He was 100% sure he knew who they were from. He played the messages.

"Oh god, Erik, I'm so sorry, so very, very sorry. I wasn't too worried when I realised I'd got your jacket, I mean, I assumed you'd have more than one, so I thought I'd return it tomorrow, which is today. But this morning I found your wallet! What happened at the cafe? How did you pay? Did you have any other money on you? I hope they believed you and were reasonable about it. I can't tell you how sorry I am and I'll - "

BEEP

"Are you angry with me Erik? I can understand if you are. It was supposed to be a nice lunch in apology for me being a twat at the museum and I started by freaking you out with the detective thing, that's how I got your number by the way, oh, fuck, I'm sorry, I didn't mention that did I? Yes, well, he got me your cell number and your landline too. Anyway, then I bailed on you when Raven called and I know you said - "

BEEP

"Christ, you've been arrested haven't you? That's why you're not answering your phone. The cafe called the police and they arrested you and now you're in a holding cell with a bunch of drunks and druggies and gang members! I'll bail you out Erik, I'll pay for the best lawyer money can buy, I'll testify on your behalf, I'll bloody well mind control the whole courthouse if I have to because there's no way I'm going to let - "

BEEP

Erik convulsed with helpless laughter. He laughed till he cried. He laughed till his sides ached. He was slightly tempted to leave Charles to stew a little longer, but decided the risk of Charles storming the neighbourhood police station was too great. He pressed call back.

"Erik! Thank god, I was just about to - "

"OK, Charles, stop right there. I'm perfectly fine. I haven't been arrested. I explained the situation, told them I lived nearby and suggested a couple of staff escort me home to get some cash - I always keep a stash of ready money just in case. The manager was cool about it and said he'd trust me. I gave them a huge tip, so everyone was happy. You've been worrying about nothing."

Silence, then a huge sigh of relief.

"I can't apologise enough - "

Erik snorted.

"Yeah, you can apologise enough. In fact you've already apologised more than enough. If you say sorry one more time I'm going to hang up, drive round to your mansion and melt all your watches."

Loud laughter.

"What, like something out of a Salvador Dali painting?"

"Exactly like that."

Charles sighed again.

"I'm sor . . . I mean, I'm afraid my protective instincts kicked in and I overreacted massively. Raven told me to calm down, but the thought of you in trouble that was of my making was unbearable."

Charles wanted to protect him. Normally Erik would have found the thought of some Dom wanting to protect to him ridiculous and unnecessary. Charles wanting to protect him stirred very different emotions.

"It was just a simple mistake, Charles, you have nothing to feel guilty about," he said softly.

"Thank you," said Charles, voice equally soft.

There was a long silence. Erik could hear Charles breathing.

"Are we still friends, Erik, assuming we were friends in the first place?"

"Yes."

"Can we meet up again some time?"

"Yes."

Erik felt a warm glow suffuse his whole body, starting from the base of his skull and travelling down his spine.

"Is . . . is that you, Charles?"

"Oops, didn't mean to share that. Apologies . . . no, I mustn't apologise must I? Not unless I want my Patek Phillipe to become scrap metal."

"Damn right," said Erik, keeping his voice extra steady.

"So . . . when's your next day off?"

"The Thursday after next."

"Why don't we meet at the Gansevoort Street end of the High Line Park at midday? I know it's touristy, but I've never been there and I've always wanted to. We could take in the Whitney Museum of American Art too. Unless there's somewhere else you'd rather go?"

Erik took a firm grip on all the metal in the apartment to ground himself.

"No, that'd be fine. Besides, museums are kind of our thing, aren't they?"

Charles laughed, deep and dirty.

"I'll try to behave a bit better than I did the last time we met in a museum. See you there, then."

"OK, see you there."

Erik hung up. The cutlery jingled in its draw. The fridge shivered like a frightened animal. The radiator groaned. Erik breathed out a long breath. Everything stilled. He grinned the too wide, too toothy, too manic grin that scared the fuck out of everyone. He was going on a date with Charles Xavier.

It was a pity he never made it.

* * *

The drive to the Worthington's cabin was a pleasant one. The road meandered through fields and woods, up and down rolling hills and past pretty villages. Spring was well underway so everything was green and growing. The Worthington's called it a cabin; Erik called it a huge house that wasn't quite as huge as their Westchester mansion.

His only passenger was Warren Worthington III. Warren had wanted to fly there and have his luggage go by car. His parents had vetoed that.

"It's too far darling, you'd be exhausted," said his mother.

"I don't want you flaunting your condition all over the county," said his father.

Warren had sulked but submitted. He was still sulking in the back of the brand new Landrover Discovery HSE Dynamic Lux. He was a handsome young sub, in a blue eyed, blonde haired, tanned, athletic, all American way. His white feathered wings were currently strapped down under his shirt. He wasn't quite the asshole his father was, but he was getting there. Erik felt a touch of sympathy for him due to his father's attitude towards his mutation and his submissive alignment. Everything about Warren Worthington Jr was antiquated, including his prejudices. He was a dinosaur that should have died out eons ago as far as Erik was concerned. He hadn't wanted to hire Erik, but Mrs Worthington had said it would be nice for Warren to have another mutant about the place, so Erik had got the job.

Erik was scanning his surroundings and thinking about Charles Xavier. The road took a long, easy curve, with plenty of visibility. There were no other cars on the road, apart from the Nissan X-Trail which had been following them for a few miles. The driver closed up on them, wanting to overtake. With a sudden burst of acceleration, the Nissan shot forward and clipped the rear end of the Discovery on the driver's side. If Erik hadn't grabbed the car with his powers, they'd have gone spinning off the road. The car fishtailed, then straightened. Erik stamped on the gas and thumbed the panic button to alert the police.

Warren had slid across the back seat from one side to the other. Erik caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. He looked young and scared.

"Put your seatbelt on!"

Warren fumbled with the belt. The Nissan drew level with their car and sideswiped it. Erik cursed and stabilised the Discovery with his powers. Warren was still messing with his seatbelt. Erik grabbed the metal tongue and jammed it into the buckle. The Nissan swerved in for another try. Erik took one hand off the steering wheel, clenched it into a fist, crumpled the Nissan's engine into a pile of junk and gave it a shove. It careered off the road and crashed into a ditch. A figure struggled out of the wreck, drew a gun and fired at them. The Discovery, including the tires, was bullet resistant, but Erik deflected the bullets anyway. He made sure to deflect one through the head of gunman. They felt like 9mm rounds.

There was always a second car. Where was the second car? A pickup truck shot out from behind a barn and slammed into the side of their SUV. The side of Erik's head smashed into the window. He felt a warm trickle of blood. Fuck. Erik hung onto their car, stopped it sliding off the road and pushed back at the Toyota. A fucking metal barn, that's why he hadn't immediately sensed the fucking Toyota. He accelerated away, the Toyota in hot pursuit. He was just about to flip it into a field, when he felt Warren's seatbelt open.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm getting out of here!"

He sounded completely panicked. He tore off his shirt and the webbing underneath it. His huge, white wings unfolded, filling the rear of the car. He started pulling at the door handle.

"It's locked, Warren. You're safer in here with me. I know what I'm doing. Calm down and sit down and strap in."

Warren paid him no mind. Erik flicked his attention back to their pursuers. The Toyota was losing ground. Someone was leaning out of the passenger side window and firing what felt like a HK433. Erik deflected the rounds almost without thinking about it. He sunk his powers into the chassis of the pickup and melted it into slag. The body of the Toyota crashed onto the blacktop, turned sideways and flipped over a couple of times.

Erik turned his attention back to Warren, who was standing up and fiddling with the sunroof. It slid open. It should have locked when he'd pressed the panic button, but it obviously hadn't. He started to close it, but Warren had already got his head and shoulders through. He yelped as Erik pressed the metal against him and struggled further out. Fuck. Erik braked to a halt, gently so as not to chop Warren in half. He sprung his own belt and turned to grab for Warren's legs. His fingers scraped down his jeans as he lifted off.

Erik dived out of the car. Warren was soaring into the sky.

"Warren!"

Metal creaked behind him. Two men were fighting their way out of the car. One of them aimed an HK433 at Erik and let loose. Erik stopped the hollow points about six inches from his face. He melted the assault rifle - the man howled as his fingers were seared off - reformed it into a blade and stabbed the shooter in the throat.

The other guy was focused on Warren. He was lowering a gun Erik didn't recognise. Erik tried to stop the three projectiles speeding towards Warren, but they weren't metal. He hurled a hubcap skywards, trying to intercept them, but it was too late, Warren was hit. He jerked in the air, but kept flying. His wing beats slowed and grew irregular and he began dropping towards the ground. He fell the last five feet. The remaining assailant sprinted towards Warren's prone form. Erik grabbed another hubcap and launched it at him. He was on target, but the guy shimmered like a mirage and it went right through him. Shit, another mutant.

A car drew up behind him. Erik spun round, hands raised, scraps of metal levitating, ready to shred the new threat.

A middle aged woman was getting out of an ancient Ford.

"Oh, honey, are you OK? I saw the wreckage and had to stop to see if I could help."

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

"Ma'am, you need to - "

A clip's worth of 9mm rounds tore towards them. Erik managed to deflect them, but not entirely. A round clipped his thigh, knocking him to the ground, and another, originally headed for her heart, grazed the woman's shoulder. She fell to the asphalt with a scream. Erik felt for the gun, a Glock, and melted it. The woman was trying to get to her feet.

"Stay down!"

The thigh wound burned like a line of fire and he could feel blood running down his leg. He clambered to his feet. It would hold him. He took off towards Warren and the guy.

He was bending over Warren, but straightened up when he heard Erik coming. They faced off over the body.

"Let me take the kid and I won't kill you," said the guy with a friendly grin.

"I'm going kill you no matter what, because you just shot an innocent bystander," said Erik, with an entirely unfriendly grin.

The guy shrugged and launched himself at Erik. He defended against a flurry of blows. The guy was fast and knew what he was doing. Every time Erik landed a blow, the man shimmered and Erik's fist or foot went straight through him. Erik was taking a beating. A punch to the side of his head that had hit the car window sent him reeling. He backed off, trying to get a little distance. The man danced around him, mocking smile on his face. Erik flexed his fingers and fired bits of Toyota at him. Every fucking one went straight through. As the mutant dematerialised and rematerialised, Erik felt a change in the flux density of the earth's magnetic field.

"Kind of a slow learner, aren't you?" laughed the guy, closing in for the kill.

Erik summoned every piece of shrapnel he could feel and deluged the man in a storm of whirling metal. He stood there, laughing, the insubstantial center of a vortex of destruction. Erik concentrated and set off an EMP in the heart of the storm. The mutant screamed and rematerialised, body pierced in a hundred places by shards of metal. He dropped to the ground. Erik bent to check he was dead. You could never be too careful with a fellow mutant. Yep, he was dead alright.

"Actually, I'm kind of a fast learner," he muttered at the corpse.

He limped over to Warren. He tugged three carbon fibre darts from Warren's neck and back. His pulse was slow, his breathing shallow and he was going to have some splendid bruises, but, apart from that, he seemed fine. Erik half sat, half fell onto the grass beside him. His leg hurt. His head hurt. He felt nauseous. Erik threw up a little on Warren's Escada jeans. Served the little fucker right. If he'd stayed put in the car, Erik wouldn't have got shot or had the shit beaten out of him.

"You don't look too good, hon," said a concerned female voice.

Erik looked up. It was the woman from the Ford, clutching a wadded up jacket to her wounded shoulder.

"You shouldn't be walking around, ma'am."

The woman snorted.

"Bullshit. I've had worse than this stringing barbed wire. You're the one I'm worried about. Let me have a look at your head, hon."

Erik was about to protest that he was fine, but the world seemed to be darkening and spinning.

Hold on Erik, I'm coming.

Maybe God was an Englishman, or at least one of his angels was.

Erik blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EMP = Electromagnetic pulse
> 
> Please ignore the dodgy science.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are lurve and lurve makes the fic turn round!

Erik is in the back of his mama's dry-cleaning and alterations shop. It used to be mama's and papa's shop, but papa died so mama has to run it on her own. All the old ladies at synagogue tell her how sorry they are and pat Erik's cheek. He hates that. When they don't know he's listening they say:

"Running a business on her own, it's too much for a sub."

"And a son to take care of. A boy needs a father."

"Ah, but they had the bond, Edie and Jacob. She'll never take another Dom."

Mama is sad all the time now. She pretends she's not, but Erik knows better. That's why he's in the back of the shop. He's making mama a surprise to make her happy. He's been working on it for weeks. When Erik loses his temper even quite large metal things jump about, like the cooker or the fridge. But this delicate work takes time and concentration. He's almost finished.

"Can I see?" says a voice behind him.

He turns. A small, pale skinned, dark haired boy is siting cross-legged on the dusty wooden floor. He is staring at Erik with big, blue eyes. His mouth is red like Judith Neumark's when she paints her lips. He is wearing purple pyjamas in some silky material.

"Your pyjamas are stupid," says Erik.

He regrets saying it as soon as the words are out of his mouth. The boy looks like the sort who cries easily and, for some reason, Erik doesn't want to make him cry.

The boy doesn't cry, instead he holds his head very high and says:

"Purple is for emperors."

His voice sounds funny, not funny ha ha, but funny peculiar. Like he's in a play about kings and queens.

"Please can I see what you're working on?" he says.

He sounds like it's the thing he wants most in the world.

Erik means to say no, but instead he says:

"Yes, but you mustn't touch."

The boy nods vigorously and puts his hands behind his back. Erik holds out his closed hands and slowly opens them. Sitting on his palm is a tiny willow tree. Erik made it from tin cans. There is a photo of mama and papa sitting under a willow tree. They look very young and very happy. Erik thinks his willow tree might make mama remember those happy times.

The boy gasps.

"It's beautiful, Erik," he whispers.

But his voice is deeper and he looks much older and Erik knows him.

Charles.

Erik wakes up.

He was lying in a hospital bed. Charles Xavier was sitting at his bedside, wearing jeans and a rumpled sweatshirt. There were dark shadows under his eyes and his hair looked like he'd been dragging his fingers through it. A copy of "American Scientist" was open on his lap.

"Get out of my head," said Erik, voice scratchy.

Charles smiled. "I was just skimming over the surface when you grabbed me and dragged me in. Would you like a drink?"

Erik nodded and pushed himself up into a seated position. Various bruised muscles protested. He drank the water and looked at Charles, who looked back.

"How's the woman?"

Charles looked puzzled for a moment, then realisation dawned.

"She went off home as soon as they'd stitched her up. Wouldn't stay. Said she had horses to see to. Sent her regards to "the sweet, whizzy-metal boy.""

"What about Warren?"

"Still in for observation, but perfectly alright. The kidnappers shot him with a heavy duty tranquilliser. No after-effects as far they can tell. The Worthingtons have been singing your praises. Mrs Worthington said she knew all along she was right to get Warren Jr to hire you. To quote Mr Worthington, "He's an insolent S.O.B. but he's got balls of steel.""

Erik wasn't interested in the Worthingtons' opinions.

"Before I blacked out I heard you in my head."

Charles looked rueful.

"Sorry about that. Once I've made a connection with someone I tend to be highly sensitive to their psychic signature. I was sitting in a lecture on the ethical and societal implications of genetic medicine, when you lit up like a Christmas tree. I sprinted out of the lecture hall and called the police. Apparently they'd already been alerted. I kept a mental eye on you and turned up at the hospital shortly after your arrival and, well, here I am."

"That's the how, not the why."

"I feel a very strong attachment to you, Erik. I felt compelled to be here. If you want me to leave, I'll go."

He looked very serious. Erik felt he should tell him to go. He didn't need some Dom babysitting him. What he wanted was altogether different. He went for avoidance.

'So, what's wrong with me?"

A sneaky little grin curved Charles' lips.

"Nothing, darling, you're perfect. Sorry, sorry, don't look at me like that. You had a severe concussion, but you're OK now. The thigh wound was shallow. They put in some internal stitches and a dozen external ones. They'll discharge you tomorrow."

"Then there's no reason for you to stay."

Charles' expression was completely neutral, but Erik felt a flicker of disquiet that was not his own.

"As I said before, I'll go if you want me to."

Erik was pretty sure he was broadcasting, "Don't go, don't go, don't go."

What he said was, "You should go."

The flicker of disquiet spiked, then disappeared. Charles looked calmly at Erik.

"Very well."

He got up and walked to the door. He stopped in the doorway and half turned.

"Can I come and pick you up when you're discharged and take you back to your apartment?"

Say no, no, no, no, no.

"If you want to."

"I want to."

Everything about Charles was commanding, his stance, his voice, his expression and his mental touch.

"OK."

The smile he got in return was dazzling. It seemed to linger long after Charles had walked out the door.

Erik banged his head on the pillow, which was a bad idea considering he'd had concussion. What was he doing? He didn't need a Dom. He didn't want a Dom. First he'd agreed to have lunch with Charles. Then he'd agreed to that ill fated date. Now he'd said yes to Charles taking him home from hospital. Charles seemed very unlike the other Doms Erik had known intimately. If Worthington was right, he fucked differently. But sooner or later, however he fucked, he'd end up trying to control Erik, because that's what Doms did. Maybe there were some honourable exceptions, but with his background, Charles probably wasn't one of them. In Erik's experience rich, privileged Doms were the worst, used to getting exactly what they wanted and not too bothered about how they got it.

Charles picked him up the next day in a cobalt blue BMW M4. Erik wasn't much of a car nut, but he liked BMWs. He felt very out of place in it wearing borrowed sweats, particularly as Charles was immaculate in charcoal pants and dove grey linen shirt. His suit had been trashed and he couldn't wear anything tight over the thigh wound. The hospital had provided him with crutches, which he planned on ditching once he got home. Charles drove fast and a bit too wildly for Erik's liking, but got them to the apartment building in one piece. He could tell Charles wanted to help him out of the car and into the building, but he held off, probably because he picked up on how much Erik would hate that.

Erik's apartment was small, but the open plan layout made it look bigger. He didn't have much stuff, he hated clutter, just a few decent pieces of furniture. It was scrupulously clean. Mama's willow tree was on one of the bookshelves. Erik noticed Charles noticing it.

Erik eased himself onto the sofa. Charles stood in front of him. He looked perfectly at home, as if he owned the place.

"Can I get you anything?"

In answer, Erik opened the door of the fridge with his powers and levitated two bottles of beer out by their metal caps. Charles laughed delightedly. Erik lowered a bottle into his hand and popped the cap.

"Well, I can see you don't need me at all."

"You said it."

Charles sat down on the sofa beside him and sipped his beer. He asked Erik how he was feeling, got a curt response, so started talking about his studies instead, genetics with a particular focus on mutation. It was interesting and Erik understood more of it than he'd expected, either because he was a genius or Charles was good at explaining. He watched Charles' mouth close round the neck of the bottle. He watched the movement of his throat as he swallowed. He watched his pink tongue lick an errant drop from his red lips.

"What do you plan on doing when you graduate?"

"I'll carry on my studies at my late father's company, Xavier Biotech."

"Nice move. No agonising over your résumé, no interview nerves, no worrying about your probationary period," said Erik sarcastically.

Charles grinned. "Exactly. Though I won't be welcomed with open arms by everyone. My step-father for example. He's been pushing the company away from medical research and toward bio-weapons. I have every intention of pushing back. I have a majority shareholding, you see. My shares are in trust at the moment and my trustees are acting in accordance with Kurt's wishes. I can't do anything about it because they can argue that, by maximising profits, they're acting in my best interests."

His grin turned fierce. "That'll all change when I'm twenty one and the trust is wound up. Kurt will have a fight on his hands."

He looked so lovely. Erik wanted him so badly. He was always like this when he'd had a brush with mortality. The urge to fuck was overwhelming. Erik didn't know if it was in celebration of cheating death or awareness of how fleeting life was, but fighting and killing left him desperate for sex.

"Oh . . ." said Charles, a slight tremor in his voice.

"Does that disgust you?"

"No, I believe it's a not uncommon reaction."

How composed he sounded. Erik wanted to jolt him out of that composure.

"I killed four men; one in a car crash, one with a bullet, one with a blade and one with a blizzard of shrapnel. What kind of submissive does that make me?"

Charles swallowed and licked his lips.

"A well trained one, who was fighting for his life and protecting his client."

"Do I scare you?"

"No. You're forgetting I'm not without defences."

"Defence is very different from attack."

Charles slid along the sofa until his thigh was pressed against Erik's uninjured leg. He put one hand on Erik's shoulder and the other on Erik's knee.

"I could wipe your mind clean. I could switch off the part of your brain that controls your breathing or your heartbeat. I could remake you into an entirely different person," he whispered.

Erik's cock twitched in his sweatpants. Fuck it. He got both hands on the back of Charles' head - his hair felt like rough silk - and kissed him hard on the mouth. Charles froze for a moment then his arms wrapped round Erik's back and his lips parted. Erik slid his tongue into his mouth, tasting him like a hollowed out peach. He pushed him back against the sofa and licked and bit a trail from Charles' mouth to his collar bone. Charles kissed Erik's hair and dug his fingers into his back, into some of his bruises. Erik dragged his teeth up Charles' neck and fastened onto his mouth again. This time Charles slipped his tongue into Erik's mouth, a clever little snake that writhed against Erik's tongue. Erik drew back. Charles' pupils were huge, his cheeks were flushed, his hair was a mess and a string of spittle connected his upper and lower lips. Erik leaned in again. Charles put both hands against Erik's chest.

"Stop."

Erik's stomach dropped.

"If we're going to do this, we're going to do it properly," said Charles, command ringing in every word.

Erik felt a surge of relief so great he could hardly breathe. Charles stood and helped Erik to stand.

"Put your arm round my shoulder."

Erik couldn't disobey that tone. He did as he was told. Charles helped him to the bedroom and sat him on the bed. He pulled off Erik's sweatshirt. He knelt down and kissed every one of Erik's bruises so gently it was like a butterfly landing on his skin.

"So strong, so brave."

His approval washed over Erik in a warm flood. He flicked a finger against Erik's nipple. Erik groaned. He fastened that lovely mouth to the other nipple and sucked until it hurt. Charles pulled down Erik's sweatpants and boxers, being careful to avoid the bandages on this thigh, and took his socks with them.

"I think that is quite the loveliest cock I've ever seen and, oh, you're so hard for me."

He bent his head and kissed the tip of Erik's cock. Erik moaned and shifted. Charles gave the head a few exploratory licks, then sucked it into his mouth. He swirled his tongue round the glans, paying particular attention to Erik's circumcision scar. He took a little more into his mouth and cupped Erik's balls in his hand, lightly scratching at them and rolling them between his fingers. Erik gasped and stroked his fingers through Charles hair.

You taste delicious.

Charles took Erik deeper, hollowing his cheeks and flattening his tongue. He pulled off almost completely, then virtually deep throated him. Erik was a sweating, trembling mess. Charles pulled off entirely and stood up. Erik made an inarticulate noise and reached for him.

"No, Erik. Lie down on your back."

Erik hastened to obey.

"I'm clean and so are you according to my private detective, but if you want to use a condom, we will. Your choice."

The thought of barebacking with Charles made Erik's painfully hard cock even harder. Charles obviously picked that up because he grinned and said:

'No condom, then."

He stripped off his shirt. He was slim and lightly muscled. You could see that in a few years his chest and shoulders would broaden with muscle. His chest was almost hairless. His nipples were dark. A trail of dark hair disappeared under the waistband of his pants. He took his pants and briefs off, brisk and efficient. His thighs were strong and his cock was beautiful, not as big as Erik's but still a good size, uncut, fully erect and flushed a lovely deep rose pink in its bed of dark curls.

By this point Erik didn't care if he bottomed or topped, he was desperate for whatever Charles wanted to give him.

Patience, darling. Now, how are we going to do this? Hmmm, yes, that'll work.

"Lube?"

"Bedside cabinet. I can get it."

"Thank you, darling," said Charles, climbing onto the bed beside Erik.

Erik tugged the drawer open with his powers - metal handle - and floated the lube into Charles' hand by its metal cap.

Clever. Now you're going to watch me.

As if Erik could have dragged his eyes away for a second.

Charles got down on his hands and knees, ass facing Erik, and traced the edge of his hole with a lubed finger. Erik's attention was riveted to that small, puckered opening. Charles slid his finger in and moaned. Erik moaned too. Charles finger fucked himself, slow and leisurely, looking over his shoulder and smiling filthy and bright. He got another finger in and upped the pace, making little noises of satisfaction. He parted his fingers in a V, stretching his hole open and letting Erik see the red darkness within. He pushed a third finger in and thrust fast and hard and deep, wriggling his ass and moaning.

Not enough, not enough, need you, need your cock.

Charles pulled his fingers out with a squelch and straddled Erik's hips, facing Erik's feet. Their erect cocks slid against each other. They both groaned and Erik hips thrust up.

No, you must keep quite still Erik, no moving at all. Do you understand?

Yes, Charles, yes, anything you say.

That's my good boy.

If anyone else had called him a good boy, Erik would have thrown them out. He just wanted Charles to call him that again.

Charles knelt up, took Erik in hand, positioned his cock at his hole and slid down, slow, tight, hot and inexorable. Erik bit his lip and dug his hands into the bedclothes determined not to move. He was balls deep in Charles. Charles sat still for what seemed like hours, breathing deeply. Erik got flashes of "so big, so full, so good, love that stretch, that burn". He had a perfect view of the lovely round globes of Charles' ass, the elegant line of his backbone and the graceful arch of his back. Charles raised himself up so just the tip of Erik's cock was still inside him, then slid down until his ass pressed onto Erik's hips and lower belly. Christ, the sight of his cock sliding into Charles' hole!

Charles began working himself on Erik's prick, slow and steady at first, then picking up the pace. They were both drenched in sweat. Rivulets ran down Charles' back and darkened Erik's pubes. Their sensations were starting to blur together. Erik was surrounded by Charles, loving the tight drag as he impaled himself again and again. He was also stuffed full and penetrated and stretched.

Perfect, Erik, perfect, so good for me, perfect . . .

Charles' mental voice degenerated into incoherence. He started circling his hips as he plunged up and down. Erik shuddered and sobbed. He was so close.

Not yet, not till I say.

Erik projected "obedience" and "yours" and "yesyesyesyesyes". Charles' answering approval blazed through him. He began to clench on Erik like a vice, clamping down on every upthrust and downstroke. Erik held on, penetrating and penetrated, poised on the brink. Charles cried out and clenched even tighter. Erik felt hot come streak his thighs. Charles' orgasm tore through him. He held on and held on and held on.

Now!

Erik came, filling Charles' ass with come. He shouted Charles' name, aloud and in his head, as he shook and sobbed through his completion. There was nothing but bliss and Charles.

He was perfectly relaxed; floating and serene. He let himself sink into a place of being and nothingness. He was there for years. Or was it seconds? He didn't know. It didn't matter. He was surrounded by a warm presence. Charles. Charles gently lifted Erik to the surface. He opened his eyes.

Charles' blue gaze fixed him. He smiled.

"Welcome back from subspace, darling."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is full of sweetness. The next one will have some nastiness. The one after that (ish) will be v bad. Then it will get better again.

"That . . . that was subspace?" said Erik.

"Yes," replied Charles, smiling.

"I've never felt it before. It was - "

Erik struggled to describe that feeling of peace and rightness and wholeness:

"It was good."

Charles raised his eybrows.

"You've never felt it before?"

"Never."

"I wondered why you didn't recognise it when we were in the cafe. I thought maybe you'd only ever entered subspace in a sexual context."

Erik stared. "That was subspace, that floating, drifting feeling?"

"Yes. Well, the beginnings of it anyway. Erik, would you mind terribly if I had a look at the Doms you've been with before me?"

Erik hesitated then nodded. He projected his memories of the various Doms who'd tried to extract submission from him. Charles frowned. Two deep furrows appeared between his eyebrows. Erik felt a sort of furious buzzing at the base of his skull, like a wasp the size of a horse. Charles was angry. Erik wasn't surprised. Any Dom would be angry seeing what a useless sub Erik was. His got a cold feeling in his gut. It was all over before it had even begun.

Charles' eyes widened in shock.

"Oh, God, Erik, no. I'm not angry at you, I'm angry at them."

Now Erik's eyes widened.

"At them?"

Charles nodded vigorously and hugged Erik tightly to his chest. Erik pressed his face into Charles' neck and breathed in the strong smell of sweat and the fainter scent of expensive cologne.

"I don't understand," he muttered, lips moving against Charles' silky skin.

Charles sighed. "We've made such great strides in our attitudes to mutants, women, people of colour, people of different faiths and people with disabilities. Yet some prejudices linger. There is a sizeable minority, most of them Doms I'm ashamed to say, who think Dommes aren't real Doms, despite the fact that forty percent of Dominants are female, they think switches are just confused subs and that there's something wrong with those who are non-aligned. These same arseholes tend to have very decided views on the proper sexual activity for Doms and subs; Doms do the penetrating and subs get penetrated."

"I've heard that all my life," said Erik.

"It's bullshit, utter bullshit. I'm a telepath, trust me when I say being a Dom or a sub has nothing to do with whose pointy bits go in whose hole. Dominance and submission are opposite ends of the same spectrum. Some people are at either end, but most are somewhere along the range. Doms like me are much more common than people think, as are subs like you. The non-aligned are perfectly normal, well-adjusted people. Switches are rare, but are just as Dominant as they are submissive."

Erik yearned to believe what Charles was telling him. It was what his mother had told him, but the opposite of a lot of what he'd heard in the military and from the men who'd tried to Dom him.

Charles obviously picked this up because he said:

"The military is a Dom heavy environment and a traditional one at that. As for the Doms you've had intimate contact with, well, you seem to have been singularly unlucky in your partners. You're a strong person Erik. You have a powerful mutation, you're physically robust and you have a forceful personality. Unfortunately you seem to have attracted the kind of Dom that likes a strong sub because they enjoy the challenge of breaking them. That sort of Dom wants to force submission from their sub. They want mindless obedience, a slave not a partner, a reflection of their power."

"They never broke me," Erik whispered into Charles collar bone.

He felt a surge of pride and approval from Charles.

So strong, so beautiful, so perfect. Mine, mine, mine, not theirs, never theirs, only mine.

"As far as I'm concerned, hell, as far as most people are concerned, forced submission is no submission at all. Unless a sub submits willingly, it's meaningless."

Erik closed his eyes, lashes tickling Charles' neck. Could it really be true? Was he perfectly normal? Not wrong, not bad, not unnatural? If anyone would know, Charles would. Intellectually he could accept it, but years of conditioning meant he couldn't really feel it.

I guess I'll just have to keep telling you how wonderful you are.

Charles tipped Erik's chin up with his forefinger and kissed him full on the lips. His other hand crept down Erik's chest, across his belly and closed round his cock. Short, strong fingers slid up and down his shaft, still slippery with come and lube. Charles slipped his tongue into Erik's mouth at the same time as he flicked his thumb over the head of his cock. Erik moaned into Charles' mouth and nipped his tongue. He reached for Charles' cock, dragging his nails lightly across the glans.

Yes, yes, good, more nails, more teeth.

Erik sank his teeth into Charles' throat, sucking and biting bruises into his perfectly pale skin. He dug his nails into Charles' shaft, gently at first, then harder as he felt Charles' arousal soar. He scraped his teeth across Charles' collar bone and sank his nails into Charles' balls. He got his other hand between his buttocks and pressed two fingers into Charles' still loose hole. Charles gasped and wriggled.

He tightened his grasp on Erik's cock and started pumping him relentlessly. Erik did the same to him. Their knuckles scraped together. Erik pried Charles' fingers from his cock, pressed their pricks together and wrapped his hand round them both. Charles closed his hand over Erik's. Erik shoved two more fingers into Charles' come and lube filled ass. He groaned and clenched down on Erik's fingers and together they worked their cocks; slick, heated skin dragging and sliding and Charles' foreskin catching on Erik's glans.

Charles' arousal bled into Erik's mind and he reflected Erik's own sensations back at him, infinite reflections in opposing mirrors. It was too much, overwhelming, but Charles hadn't told him he could come, so he tried desperately hard to hold on.

Together.

The command tipped him over the edge and he felt Charles coming with him. They spurted over each other's fingers and stomachs and lit up each other's minds. He didn't enter subspace, but it was still pretty damn good.

Charles cleaned them up. Normally Erik preferred to clean himself and his partner, but Charles wanted to do it, so he let him.

He got back into bed and plastered himself to Erik's back.

"Would . . . would you like this arrangement to continue?"

He sounded and felt surprisingly hesitant.

Erik turned to face him and said the words he'd never thought he would.

"I offer you my submission. I give it freely and without reserve. I will always strive to give you, my Dominant, everything you want."

Apparently you could surprise an omega-class telepath. Charles' eyes filled with tears. When he spoke, his voice shook.

"I accept your submission, recognising it as the gift it is, freely given and a privilege rather than my right. I will always strive to give you, my submissive, everything you need."

Erik bowed his head and Charles kissed his forehead. He should have collared him at this point. Erik felt a tiny flicker of distress from Charles. He summoned his best Damascus steel knife from the kitchen, reformed it into a collar with a simple hook and eye connection and dropped it into Charles' hands.

A single tear rolled down Charles' cheek. He fastened the collar round Erik's neck with trembling hands. He moulded his body and his mind to Erik as though they were one being.

My submissive.

My Dominant.

Charles' joy bathed him in sunlight and scattered him with petals.

It wasn't all sunshine and flowers.

Charles had Dom'd a surprising number of subs, given his relative youth, though he'd never collared anyone. However, he'd never Dom'd someone ex-military, twelve years his senior and from such a different background. Initially he'd assumed Erik would give up his bodyguard job and do something more "worthwhile".

"But you could do so much more and you don't even like the Worthingtons."

"That has nothing to do with it. The personal protection role gives me an outlet for my skills. The attempted kidnapping for example."

"You enjoyed that?"

"I didn't exactly enjoy it, but it was satisfying, deeply satisfying to use my training and my mutation to do my job to the best of my ability. Besides, after that I'm due a pay rise. It would be dumb to leave now."

Charles opened his mouth. Erik was certain he was about to say something about being more than rich enough for two. Charles shut his mouth. Erik felt thoughts chasing through Charles' head like clouds scurrying across the sky.

"If you need to do that job, you should keep it," he said, resignedly.

"Glad we agree."

After the conversation about Erik's job, Charles seemed to accept he was flogging a dead horse when it came to getting him to move into his enormous apartment near the University of Columbia.

They had other disagreements. There was the heated argument in an Italian restaurant about when force was justified as a tool of international diplomacy. They got so loud and swore so much, that the manager told them to keep it down or leave. He also told Erik he needed to keep his sub under control. Erik was so enraged he melted the tip jar into a glowing lump of metal. Charles laughed so much he had a coughing fit. Once Erik had got over his anger, he started to worry. After a couple of days of Erik glowering, Charles confronted him about it.

"I don't know if this is going to work, Charles. I'm not going to stop arguing with you just because I'm your sub."

"And have I given you any indication that I want you to stop arguing with me? You're my sub, not my clone. I'd be bored to tears if you parroted all my opinions back at me. Anyway, I like arguing. Raven says I argue for the sake of it."

Erik felt a massive sense of relief.

"Then I guess I'm your ideal sub."

"No guessing about it, you are my ideal," said Charles, sliding his hand under Erik's tee.

That stopped them arguing for a good forty five minutes.

There were more minor, day-to-day issues too. Charles tended to forget that Erik worked regular shifts and just because he didn't have a lecture the next day, it didn't mean they could stay up until four o'clock in the morning, drinking shots, eating pizza, watching Lord of the Rings and fucking. And, Christ, he was untidy. He couldn't go five minutes in Erik's apartment without putting a book, a mug or an article of clothing somewhere it wasn't supposed to be. He slept late and stayed up late, while Erik got up early and went to bed betimes. Erik showered every morning, no matter what, while Charles would happily go several days in the same clothes with just a token splash of water and a good blast of deodorant.

Despite everything, Erik had never been so happy in his entire life and, dear god in heaven, he was getting a lot of sex. Charles was nineteen and had the libido to match. It was all Erik could do to keep up with him. He thanked his lucky stars he'd always been extremely fit.

They'd been together for a couple of months when Charles started agitating to introduce Erik to his friends. Erik resisted at first, but eventually gave way, surprise, surprise. That was why he found himself in a coffee shop with a bunch of students, all of whom were at least a decade younger than him.

Alex was a stereotypical jock, brash and aggressive. He was also a sub. He reminded Erik of himself at that age. He was a mutant too.

"What can you do?" asked Erik.

"Ah, I emit hoops of super-heated plasma."

"Hoops?"

"Yeah, kinda like hula hoops, but bigger and red and hot as fuck."

"Ninja hula hoops," whooped Sean, a red haired sub and an amiable stoner. "Deadly hula hoops, the hula hoops of doom! Remember when you sliced the Founder's statue in half? Remember when you vaporised all the water in the swimming pool?"

"Shut up, Sean," muttered Alex, looking uncomfortable.

"Well, if the engineering degree doesn't work out, you'll have a great career in demolition," said Erik.

Charles tutted, but Alex grinned.

"Anyway, I'm not the only one who causes havoc, Mr Stunned All The Fish In The Aquarium," said Alex, shoving Sean's shoulder.

"That was an accident. I was trying to communicate with them."

"Your mutation is talking to fish?" Erik queried.

That caused laughter all round.

"No, man, no. I can hit supersonic frequencies. Let me show you."

Everyone except Armando clapped their hands over their ears and shouted variations of "no, don't do it" at Sean. He opened his mouth and let out a high pitched note which set every glass in the place vibrating and made Erik's ears hurt. Armando put his hand over Sean's mouth. The texture of his fingers changed, becoming spiky yet soft looking, like those sound insulation tiles. Sure enough, Sean's banshee like wail faded into silence.

"Thanks Armando. I swear, if you do that again Sean I'm going to cut the connection between your brain and your vocal cords," threatened Charles.

Erik asked Armando what his mutation was. In answer, Armando, a calm, easygoing Dom, handed Erik the fork he'd been using to cut up his pancakes, put his fingers flat on the table and told Erik to stab him in the hand.

Erik looked at Charles who grinned and said, "Go on, it'll be fine, honestly. Besides, you like stabbing people."

Erik projected asshole at him as hard as he could, which made Charles grin even wider. No way was he going to stab someone with a blunt piece of cutlery. He got out his switchblade, which drew admiring and scandalised gasps from the onlookers. He poised it above Armando's hand. He looked at Armando.

"Go ahead, man."

There was an edge of command to his words, but Erik wouldn't have gone ahead if Charles hadn't non-verbally backed Armando up. He plunged the knife down. The instant it touched the back of his hand, his skin changed. The knife skittered off to one side and Erik had to use his powers to stop it digging into the table. Armando's hand looked like scales of black basalt. Erik reached out to touch, then hesitated.

"Feel free," said Armando.

Charles gave wordless permission. Erik touched his hand. It felt like cool stone. Under his fingers it changed back to warm, brown skin.

"Amazing. Is it adaptability, your mutation?"

Everybody hollered and clapped.

Armando smiled. "Damn, Erik, you're good. Mostly people take a while to work it out."

"Can I see your knife?"

That was Lilandra, a tall, athletic woman with a feathery, punk haircut and brightly coloured feathers tattooed up her arms.

Erik showed her how to open and close the switchblade without slicing her fingers, then handed it to her.

"Careful. It's very sharp."

She took it, weighed it in her hands, opened and closed it a couple of times, then handed it back.

"I'm working on jewellery that combines feathers and blades. I'd love to make something that folds like that. It would have to be blunt of course."

"I could give you some advice, if you'd like. The mechanism, suitable metals, tools etc. I'm metallokinetic."

Erik levitated the closed switchblade and sent it swirling above their heads in elegant arcs. Everyone oohed and aahed.

Lilandra nodded enthusiastically. "That'd be great. I'm used to working with organic materials. Metalworking is still very new to me."

They chatted a bit about which metals she was using, the effects she was looking for and the equipment she had access to. Erik couldn't quite work out if she was a Domme or a sub. Non-aligned said Charles' voice in his head. He was talking to Gabrielle, a dark haired, dark eyed sub, about her internship with The New York Times. Apparently he also had attention to spare for Erik's thoughts.

I always have attention to spare for you, darling.

Piss off.

Charles laughed.

"Hey, no telepathic conversations while you're supposed to be listening to me, Xavier," complained Gabby.

"Sorry, sorry."

"Can you hold a verbal conversation with one person and a telepathic conversation with someone else?" Hank asked.

"Yes, I can. It's not easy, but it's doable. Raven and I got a lot of practice during boring social events where we'd be making polite conversation with some old fuddy duddy, while exchanging extremely rude comments with each other."

"When's Raven back from Vietnam?"

Charles sighed. "Another fortnight. I can't wait for you to meet her Erik, you'll love her and you'll be wowed by her mutation."

Hank nodded. "Her ability to - "

Charles shushed him. "Don't tell him, I want it to be a surprise."

"It'll be a surprise alright," laughed Gabby.

"You should have her do what she did when she first met me," said Hank.

There was a chorus of agreement. Hank was another one Erik couldn't make out. He was tall and lanky and handsome, though his shyness and awkwardness camouflaged his good looks. Charles projected:

I think he's a switch.

Is he a mutant?

Yes, but he's very shy about his mutation, so I'd rather not tell you about it.

"You're doing it again," cried Lilandra. "I know you two lovebirds are in the honeymoon phase, but at least come out of each other's heads while you're in company."

"Apologies," said Charles, not looking or sounding in the least apologetic.

The conversation meandered over coursework (apparently everyone but Hank was way behind), their least favourite professors (Essex in genetics, Schmidt in engineering), best and cheapest take-out (a tie between Mexican and Vietnamese), and places that would sell you alcohol no matter how bad your fake id was (numerous).

"Hey, Erik, let the children compare hangovers without you for a minute," said Gabby, ignoring the many and various insults thrown at her by "the children".

"Charles tells me you're ex-military, currently working in close protection and Jewish."

"Yes," said Erik, cautiously.

"My synagogue has been getting threatening mail, well, even more threatening mail than usual and Jewish graves in the neighbourhood cemetery have been desecrated. We could do with some advice on security. We're not a wealthy temple, so we couldn't afford to pay much."

"You don't have to pay me anything, I'll give you advice and training for free. My mama, aleha hashalom, would never forgive me if I took money from you."

"Thank you, Erik, shalom aleichem," said Gabby, smiling.

"Aleichem shalom," replied Erik, smiling back.

Later, when he was sitting on the sofa and Charles was lying with his head in Erik's lap, he asked him:

"Did you have a relationship with Gabby?"

Charles looked up at him.

"Why do you ask?"

"Just something about the way you were with her."

"Yes, I did, and with Lilandra too. Not at the same time, I hasten to add. I hope that's not a problem?"

Erik shook his head and smiled.

"What?" Charles asked, looking suspicious.

"It's just I imagined your previous subs as less militant Jewish woman and tattooed Amazon and more, well, Audrey Hepburn."

Charles howled with laughter.

"No, I've always gone for the fierce, proud subs. Why do you think I like you so much, Audrey?"

"Don't you "Audrey" me, you little shit," growled Erik, tickling Charles unmercifully.

Tickling turned to stroking and kissing and licking and sucking and biting and scratching.

Charles called him "Audrey" all that week.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm an attention slut, comment me you sexy beasts!

Charles had been a bit antsy the last couple of days. He said it was because Raven was due home soon, but Erik suspected there was something else. He didn't push, Charles would tell him when he'd tell him. In the meantime, Charles was working off his nervous energy in fucking.

Erik was sitting on the sofa, stark naked except for his kitchen knife collar. Equally naked, Charles straddled him, sliding up and down on Erik's prick, his own erect cock slapping against their bellies and leaving smears of pre-come. His wrists were fastened behind his back with metal bands. Another band blindfolded him and a third formed a gag with a knob of metal projecting into his mouth. Charles was sucking and licking and gnawing it. Erik could feel everything through the metal. It was almost like getting a blowjob while simultaneously fucking Charles up the ass.

Sweat gathered in the hollow of Charles' throat, then spilled over, droplets chasing down his chest and belly to glisten in his dark pubic hair. His face and chest were flushed a delicate rosy red. Erik sent two slivers of metal to pinch Charles' nipples. He moaned around his gag.

Harder!

Erik dug the metal into Charles nipples.

More, more!

He pinched even harder, drawing a little blood, which mingled with his sweat to wash his chest with pink.

My Erik, so good for me, my sub, my perfect, perfect sub.

Erik revelled in Charles praise. Charles shared the deep ache in his thighs and the delicious burn and stretch in his ass.

Hand on my cock.

Erik obeyed. He loved the heft of Charles' prick in his hand, silky skin over hard flesh.

Bring me off, hard and fast, be brutal.

Erik gripped him viciously tight and started pumping.

Yes, yes, perfect, Erik, God, yes, Erik, yes . . .

Then there were no words, just the sensation of calloused fingers relentlessly working his cock, and he was coming, hot come spilling on Erik's fingers and both their stomachs. For a moment, Erik thought he'd come too, without permission, then realised he was still hard and still buried deep in Charles.

He felt Charles' permission, no words, just a feeling that he could come now, any way he wanted. Erik pulled out, flipped Charles onto the sofa, face down, and jerked off over his roseate buttocks. He collapsed on top of Charles and felt himself floating away in light and brightness and warmth.

As soon as he came out of subspace, he released Charles from his metal bonds and fetched a wash cloth (the sofa was draped in a towel). Erik's form of aftercare was to take care of Charles; that was one of the things he'd enjoyed most about playing Dom, looking after his partner. Charles cuddled up to him. He was an inveterate cuddler and Erik had been surprised to find he loved it. He radiated physical and mental warmth at Erik. Erik dragged the throw rugs over them.

Charles rubbed his cheek against Erik's shoulder.

"You know I've been a bit "off" these last few days?"

Erik nodded.

"And I said it was because Raven is coming home?"

Erik nodded again.

"That's part of it, but there's something else." Long pause. "My mother and stepfather are having this big do. I want to go because most of Xavier Biotech's shareholders will be there. I want to make some allies in advance of the trust ending and me getting control of my shares. I need people who will back me up over a change in direction, who I can rely on. This party is the ideal place to do a ton of networking."

He fell silent.

"And?"

"And I'd like you to come with me. No, Erik, before you say yes - I can feel that you're going to - you need to understand what kind of a do it'll be. It will be very formal. No unclaimed subs. All subs will be collared. Subs will be expected to stand behind their Dominants and not to speak without permission. There will be kneelers at the dinner table and Dominants will hand feed their subs. I'd like to have you there because you're the one person I know who's unequivocally on my side. However, it's the last place in the world I'd imagine you'd want to be."

He looked so serious and so young.

Erik smiled and kissed his brow.

"Sweetheart, I'm an ex-soldier. You wouldn't believe the shit-storms I've been through. A couple of months back I killed four guys during an attempted kidnapping. I think I can stand a few hours of being treated like a fashion accessory and you trying to stuff peas in my mouth with your fingers."

Charles squealed with joy and attacked Erik with his lips.

They had to get Erik a tuxedo. Charles decided on Ermenegildo Zegna in anthracite (dark grey to Erik). Erik looked so good in it, Charles was forced to jump his bones in the changing room. The staff obviously knew what was going on, but turned a blind eye as Charles was a valued customer. He got himself a midnight blue Prada outfit, which inspired a bit of groping on Erik's part.

The big day dawned. Charles was uncharacteristically quiet. He'd warned Erik his mother was an ice-cold snob and his stepfather was the kind of Dom who'd tried to make Erik's life a misery. They got ready in near silence, Erik taking every opportunity to kiss and caress Charles. The physical contact seemed to help.

Charles was wearing a crisp white shirt with his Prada tux and a navy bow tie. Erik's shirt was a very pale grey and open at the neck to show off his collar. Charles had got him white gold cufflinks to go with it.

A driver in a big Mercedes came to pick them up. Charles clutched Erik's hand in the back of the car as they headed to Westchester. They drove through massive, ornate metal gates. Erik couldn't help feeling them out with his powers. The Merc purred down an endless driveway through immaculately manicured grounds. It pulled up outside the house. Erik had thought the Worthingtons' place was big. The Xavier mansion looked like someone had transplanted a grand English country house into New York State. The exterior of the house was illuminated and light shone from every window.

Charles lunged at Erik and kissed him ferociously.

"For luck."

They got out of the car and walked up the steps. Inside it looked like a museum. All the furniture and pictures and ornaments looked like the kind of stuff you mustn't touch. Gigantic vases of flowers covered every surface. A servant took their coats. A brittle blond sub in a full length, rose pink dress and a ruby and gold collar stood with a tall, bulky, running-to-fat Dom, welcoming their guests.

"Mother," said Charles, taking her hands and air-kissing her cheeks.

"Charles," she said in a colourless voice with an equally colourless smile.

"Kurt."

Charles shook hands with the big Dom.

"Charles. Been a long time since we've seen you." He looked Erik up and down. "I see you've finally collared yourself a sub."

"Yes. This is Erik Lehnsherr. Erik, this is my mother, Sharon, and her husband, Kurt Marko."

"Delighted to meet you, Erik," said Sharon, sounding anything but delighted.

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am."

Marko took his hand and squeezed, hard. Erik squeezed back even harder. Marko winced and released him.

"Looks like you've got yourself a real man there, Charlie. You work for Worthington Jr, don't you? You're the bodyguard who snuffed four guys when they came after his son."

"Yes sir."

"Well, well. Better watch yourself, Charlie, better not piss him off. Maybe you should let him play Dom. That shouldn't be much of a problem for you."

Erik pondered how easily he could amputate Marko's hand with his flashy Rolex. Charles put his hand on Erik's elbow.

"Good to see old fashioned courtesy is alive and well," he said in an icy tone Erik had never heard before. "I look forward to extending the same courtesy to you, Kurt."

With that he strode off, Erik the requisite pace behind.

Jesus, what an asshole.

You don't know the half of it. I thought we might get further than the entrance hall before hostilities commenced, but apparently not. With a bit of luck we can avoid the fucker for the rest of the evening.

They entered a huge, chandelier hung room with mirrored walls.

"Looks like a giant "fuck you" to the Hall of Mirrors," muttered Erik.

Charles sniggered. "Good spot, Erik, it's actually based on Versailles. Ah, Senator Morales, I hoped you'd be here. Does your mutation let you travel back in time, because I swear you look younger?"

The older Dom laughed and clasped Charles' hand.

"That can't be little Charles Xavier, looking every inch the elegant gentleman? Last time I saw you, Raven had painted you bright blue."

"Oh, God, I kept on finding blue paint in unexpected places for days afterwards. Talking of blue; Camila, you're an absolute vision in turquoise tonight."

The woman flicked a glance at the senator and he gave a tiny nod. She came forward and gave Charles a peck on the cheek.

"And you are just as much of a flirt now as when you were as a teenager."

"I'm still a teenager. I won't be twenty for months. Now, may I introduce my sub, Erik Lehnsherr?"

The woman gave him a bright smile and the senator shook his hand.

"Good to meet you, Erik. And what do you do to keep body and soul together?"

"I work in close protection and personal security, senator."

"Hmm, ex-military by any chance?"

"Yes, sir, Mutant Special Forces."

"I served in the USAF, they didn't have specialist mutant divisions in my day. What about you, Charles, still working on that degree?"

"I am."

"Still intending to come work at Xavier Biotech when you're done?"

"Definitely. I want to be as involved as possible with the company, well, as involved as I can be before the trust's wound up. I've got so many ideas about the evolution of Xav Bio."

"Why don't you tell me about them, Charles?"

Charles and the senator talked animatedly. Mrs Morales seemed happy to listen to their conversation so Erik did the same. It was all very subtle, no "Hey, want to help me shaft my stepfather?" It was all hints and allusions and things unsaid.

As they walked away, after many protestations about keeping in touch, Erik projected:

He seemed like a nice guy, but I couldn't tell if he was on your side or not.

Oh, he's on my side alright. He knew my father and there's bad blood between him and Kurt from way back.

And so the evening wore on. Charles spoke to various Doms, several Dommes and a couple of subs. Erik stayed as quiet as politely possible, but found himself making conversation every now and then.

A handsome, willowy sub complimented him on his collar.

"It's so stark and modern. Who's the designer?"

Erik was tempted to tell him he'd made it himself from kitchenware.

"It's a Max Eisenhardt. He's very new. This is one of his first pieces."

"Max Eisenhardt. I'll keep him on my radar."

Naughty.

Charles looked highly amused. Erik grinned.

You'll have to punish me later.

Mmmm, so many delicious possibilities.

He sent Erik a burst of lust.

Can't wait. In the meantime, I'm going to the can. Can I get you a drink?"

There were waiters circulating with drinks and a full bar.

More thrilling fizzy water for me.

Charles was staying stone cold sober.

OK.

Erik visited the bathroom, which was larger and more luxurious than most people's homes and staffed with three servants. He elbowed his way to the bar and ordered carbonated water for Charles and a German beer for himself. A Dom stepped up to the bar beside him. He was a slim, middle-aged man, a little shorter than Erik, and quite good looking if you could overlook a retroussé nose and thin lips. He gave Erik a very obvious and lascivious once over.

"And whose sub are you?"

"Charles Xavier's."

"Charles Xavier's?"

He started laughing. Erik hated him immediately. Erik's drinks had arrived and he would have left if the asshole hadn't put a hand on his arm. Erik reminded himself he was on his best behaviour.

"Little Charles Xavier. I knew him as a child. A beautiful boy and such a magnificent mutation. I had hopes there myself at one time. We all thought he'd align as a sub, then he turned out to be a Dom. Everyone was shocked, we couldn't believe it, Sharon even took him to an alignment specialist, but there it was."

"I have to go," said Erik, stonily.

The grip on his arm tightened.

"Oh, I can't let you rush away like that. I'm Sebastian Shaw. What's your name, my dear?"

Polite, polite, polite.

"Erik Lehnsherr."

"Ah, Worthington's bodyguard. I heard Xavier had taken up with you. He always liked a bit of rough. You should have seen that tattooed woman he took up with. Not even aligned."

"I've met her. I liked her."

"Well, like calls to like I suppose. I can't believe little Charles has actually collared someone. I wouldn't have been surprised if he never had. I wouldn't have been surprised if he'd ended up wearing a collar. He always treated his subs as though they were equals. Now, I love a beautiful submissive as much as any Dom, but one needs to let them know their place. A proper hierarchy must be maintained. Subs are happier that way, they get confused if they don't know where they stand."

Fuck being polite.

"Fuck you and fuck your bullshit opinions."

Erik went to pull away, but Shaw's grasp was surprisingly strong. 

"You're a case in point, Erik. A stunning sub who doesn't know his place because Xavier's confused you by treating you as an equal. If he'd broken you in you'd be so much happier. Someone as strong as you needs firm treatment, strong discipline and regular fucking. I bet you never get it from little Charlie, do you? I bet you fuck him, eh? Your big cock - I bet you've got a big one - up that lovely pert ass. Does he moan for you like the little whore he is? Does he wear the collar while you're reaming him out?"

"Fuck off!"

Erik wrenched his arm away, but Shaw didn't let go. If anything, his grasp tightened. Erik grabbed Shaw's Breitling with his powers and pulled violently. Nothing, Shaw just grinned. Perhaps he had some kind of strength mutation. Erik heated the watch up to melting point. He'd cut the fucker's hand off if he had to. Shaw didn't even wince. The watch dropped onto the bar, a twisted mess of cold metal. Shaw had absorbed the heat. Fuck.

Shaw was still smiling, but his eyes were cold.

"I liked that watch, Erik. I'm going to have to punish you for that."

The hand on his arm heated up painfully. Erik reached out for the surrounding metal, fuelled by rage and pain.

Stop.

Shaw let go of Erik and stumbled back, hands clutched to his head. Charles was standing a couple of feet away. His face was calm, but his eyes burned. He looked terrifying. Erik could feel his power like a tsunami, poised to crash down on Shaw.

"I don't care about your opinions of me. You're perfectly entitled to think what you will. However, you touched my sub without his permission. When he attempted to leave, you detained him. When he tried to defend himself, you attacked him. You're going to leave Sebastian, you're going to leave this house right now. Don't come anywhere near me or Erik ever again."

Shaw took his hands from his head. His face was white and drenched in sweat. He looked furious, but he also looked scared. For a moment he looked as though he was going to say something, then he turned and almost ran from the room. The dead silence that surrounded them dissolved into excited chatter.

Charles took Erik by the arm and led him out of a French window onto the terrace. It was quiet and dark and cool. Charles turned to face Erik and pulled him close.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, pissed off, but fine apart from that. Shit, I hope I didn't fuck up your negotiations?"

"I couldn't care less as long as you're OK," he said, hugging Erik. "Actually, you may have helped. Shaw has a lot of enemies. He's screwed a lot of people over, personally and financially. That show of strength won't have done me any harm."

"You're trembling. Are you OK?"

"It's anger. I need to burn it off. Come on."

He led Erik across a lawn and through a tall hedge. There was a pool and some low buildings behind it. Charles tried the door of one of the cabins. Locked. He raised an eyebrow at Erik. He flicked a finger and the lock clicked open. They stepped into the darkened room. Charles pulled the cushions off a wicker chair and threw them on the floor. He tore his clothes off, giving Erik a mental instruction to do the same. He rootled around in a cupboard and thrust a bottle of suntan oil into Erik's hands.

"You're going to fuck me as hard as you can. Make sitting down hurt for the rest of the evening."

He got down on his hands and knees on the cushions and looked over his shoulder at Erik. He looked utterly beautiful in the dim light, scarcely human, some creature of myth and legend. Erik knelt behind him, kissed the pucker of his ass, tongued it a few times, then slid an oiled finger in. Charles pushed back against his hand, fucking himself on Erik's finger. He was soon demanding more. Erik eased another one in and felt for Charles' prostate. That got him a burst of swearing.

Fuck me now!

You've only had two fingers.

Now!

Erik pulled out his fingers and positioned his cock at Charles' entrance. He was just about to press in when Charles pushed back, burying Erik to the hilt. They both groaned. Erik grasped Charles' hips and started thrusting. Charles projected:

Burn, ache, stretch, full, harder . . .

Erik did as he was told, balls slapping against Charles' ass. The cabin was filled with the sound of flesh smacking on flesh, Charles' moans and Erik's harsh breathing.

As hard as you can Erik, give me everything you've got.

Erik thrust like a man possessed, like his life depended on it. He thrust so hard he started edging Charles forward. He thrust so hard every muscle screamed in protest. Charles screamed too, screamed on every thrust and clenched like the demon child he was.

Erik shouted "Charles!" and fucked him in a frenzy of heat and lust. Charles clenched even harder. Erik knew he wouldn't last much longer, so he got a hand to Charles' cock and, in contrast to the brutal fucking he was giving him, stroked him gently and lovingly. Charles came with a yell, Erik a few seconds behind him, caught up in the storm of Charles' orgasm. Erik lost himself in subspace for a brief eternity.

When he came to, he was lying on top of Charles, softened cock still buried in his ass.

Heavy, get off.

Erik rolled them over so he was the big spoon, keeping his cock inside Charles. He loved being connected to him like this, body and mind. He wouldn't mind Charles keeping some of the, literal, pain in his ass to himself.

Charles giggled.

"Better sort ourselves out and get back to the bunfight."

They had a lightening fast shower together. They'd never had shower sex and Erik started getting handsy but Charles gave him a definite "no".

They strolled back to the house hand in hand, the scent of roses and honeysuckle strong in the air. They were just in time for dinner.

Sharon cornered them as they came in.

"Oh, Charles, you should know better than to take Sebastian seriously, you know what he's like. Kurt wanted to throw you out, but I persuaded him that would be an even bigger scandal, throwing my own son out."

"I'm sorry if I've upset you mother, but I'm not sorry for what I did to Sebastian. His behaviour was intolerable."

Sharon sighed. "His behaviour is always intolerable. One puts up with it because he's an important Dom. No one actually likes him, Charles. I don't like him. If it hadn't happened at my party I'd have been delighted for him to get his comeuppance. Now go into dinner and try not to cause anymore scandal."

"Yes, mother," said Charles, all mock meekness, getting a genuinely amused smile out of Sharon.

As they walked into the massive dining room, wood panelled walls plastered with museum grade art, a beautiful blond woman glided up them.

"Emma," yelled Charles, hugging her fiercely. "Surely you can't have been here all this time? I couldn't have missed you."

"I've only just got here. Moira was busy protecting and serving."

She extricated herself from Charles grasp. She was dressed head to toe in white, with a platinum and diamond collar. Apart from himself, she was the least submissive looking sub Erik had ever seen.

She smiled, cool and superior. A chill breeze tickled Erik's mind.

Pity I missed you kicking Seb's ass. Knowing you'd be here, how could I have thought this party would be boring?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment me big boy (or girl or non-binary person)!

Emma Frost was a telepath. Not as powerful as Charles, but still strong.

Is it OK if I talk to your boy mind to mind? Otherwise it's pretty boring for us subs, planted on those kneelers like vegetables.

If it's alright with Erik, it's alright with me, Charles projected.

OK with me, replied Erik.

They took their seats at the unfeasibly long dining table. Charles finessed things so he was next to Emma's Domme, Moira MacTaggert. Erik watched Emma sink gracefully onto the kneeler next to her Domme's chair. He did his best to copy her.

How long have you been with Charles?

Her mental voice felt cool, bordering on cold, the complete opposite of Charles.

Two months and two weeks.

Ah, still in the honeymoon phase. How did you meet up?

He told her about the museum, Charles turning up the next day, the kidnap attempt, Charles coming to the hospital and how quickly it had turned serious.

You surprise me. Charles is everyone's friend, but there's always this distance between him and the world, even his subs. You seem to have broken through.

I guess

Erik quickly changed the subject.

How did you meet Moira?

Emma laughed.

She stopped me for speeding. She was a traffic officer. I poured on the charm, trying to avoid getting a ticket. She wasn't impressed. She was very strict and stern and correct. God, I was turned on. I tracked her down to her precinct. I sent cards, flowers and gifts. She sent the cards and gifts back and donated the flowers to the local children's hospital. I persisted. In the end she agreed to one date, at some scuzzy diner, and told me if I didn't leave her alone after that, she'd get a restraining order. I was putting on this big performance, but I could tell it wasn't working. So I stopped trying to flirt, to be fascinating, to impress her. I was just me. Turns out that was what she liked. We've been together ever since.

Is she a mutant?

No, a human. Totally different background to me. No money. Highly ethical and I'm, well, not. Yet somehow we work. She's . . . eveything.

Perhaps there was hope for him and Charles after all.

Emma smiled at him.

The food arrived. Charles fed him smoked salmon by hand. He kept getting distracted by his conversation with Moira, so Erik ended up with flakes of salmon in his hair. The lobster was even more of a trial.

That's my ear, Charles, not my mouth.

Oops, sorry, darling.

Charles concentrated a bit more during the main course and managed to get the thin slices of wagyu beef and perfectly cooked vegetables into Erik's mouth rather than any other orifice. Erik had never been hand fed before. He'd never been to the sort of fancy event where it was still done. He was starting to get into it. He licked deliciously seasoned sauce from Charles' fingers and got a burst of arousal in response. By the time he'd nibbled chocolate dipped strawberries from the palm of Charles' hand, their mental connection was dripping with lust.

Damn boys, keep it down, there's another telepath here, remember?

Charles laughed and apologised. As Charles sipped a brandy, his one drink of the evening, Emma gave Erik a gentle mind-tap on his temple.

So, what exactly happened with Shaw?

Erik gave her a quick run down.

Hmmm. He sounds even worse than when we were together.

You were his sub?

I know, I can hardly believe it myself. He caught me at a vulnerable time. My parents had just shipped my brother, Christian, off to a gay conversion camp. He seemed to understand my disillusionment with the world. He can be very charming when he wants. He offered me strength and support. It was fine to start with and I felt so protected. Then he began to limit my friendships and control where I went, what I did and how I looked. It came to a head when he almost persuaded me to take suppressants.

Erik tried to control his anger, but Emma must have felt it.

I know, sugar, I know. I was so crushed I damn near did it. My brother saved me. He'd just got out of the conversion camp. He conned them into thinking he'd repented and was a born again heterosexual. He sat me down and told me what they'd done to him, how they'd broken him down. I realised it was exactly what Seb had been doing to me. I broke it off that very night. Sent him back his blingy collar in the mail. He tried to confront me, but telepathy is the one force he can't absorb. I gave him the mental equivalent of a good kicking. He's avoided me like the plague ever since and I've always kept an eye on him. He's not the kind of guy to forgive and forget.

You should have mind-wiped the fucker.

That's kind of illegal, honey, and I'd be the obvious suspect.

Pity.

Everyone was rising from the dinner table. Erik heaved a sigh of relief as he got to his feet. His knees were killing him. They all gathered in the mirrored room to listen to a string quartet and watch a trio of ballet dancers. Erik had never seen ballet before. He'd imagined it as airy fairy stuff, but was impressed by the dancers athleticism and muscle control. Charles carried on quietly networking. Emma fed Erik salacious gossip on various society stalwarts. Moira, a dark haired, dark eyed Domme, tried to look disapproving, but couldn't help laughing.

On the way home in the Merc, Erik rested his head on Charles' shoulder. Charles stroked his hair.

"Well, it started shit, got shittier, but ended up OK," said Erik.

Charles snorted. "Honestly, darling, you should write for the society pages."

Warren Worthington Jr was a bit off with Erik the next day. Erik and young Warren III had been getting on reasonably well after the attempted kidnap. Warren had apologised to Erik for fucking things up and had promised to do as Erik said if they were ever in another dangerous situation. Erik was starting to think the kid wasn't such a dick after all.

"What's up with your dad?"

Warren laughed. "He's just pissed because you got invited to the Xavier-Marko party and we didn't."

Erik grinned. "He could have had my invitation and welcome."

"How was it?"

"Interesting in a not entirely good way. Definitely not worth getting fired for."

"My dad won't fire you and . . . and if he does I've got money of my own, I'll hire you myself," Warren blurted out.

"Er, thanks, kid."

"Anyway, I've got to . . . got to . . ."

Warren took off suddenly, downdraft from his huge wings whipping Erik's hair, and landed over by the house.

When Erik told Charles about it later, he started giggling.

"What?"

"Oh, Erik, isn't it obvious?"

"Not to me."

"You're a handsome, powerful, mysterious, older man who saved his life. He's got a crush on you."

Erik gaped. Charles giggled some more. Warren was only a year younger than Charles, but Erik thought of him as little more than a boy. Not that Charles couldn't be childish. Some of their arguments degenerated into the "didn't" and "did too" back and forth beloved of five year olds. At other times he seemed possessed of the wisdom of the ages. Erik had no doubt it was his telepathy that made him seem older than his years.

The weekend came and with it a meeting of Charles' gang at their favourite coffee shop. Charles was excited about something, but he wouldn't tell Erik what.

"It's a suprise. Don't look so suspicious, it's a nice suprise. Oh, and now you're looking cynical and world weary. That might work for Warren, but it doesn't do it for me."

That earned Charles a spanking that he enjoyed way too much for it to be considered a punishment.

Slightly later than planned, they turned up at Joe's. Erik headed towards the noisy group surrounding the table at the back that they had made their own. He stopped dead. A man at the table stood up to face him. He was Erik's identical twin. Same face, same hair, same build, even the same clothes.

"Who . . . what . . . I . . ."

His doppelgänger repeated his words in Erik's voice.

"What the fuck?"

"What the fuck?"

His double grinned, a grin totally unlike anything ever seen on Erik's face, and started to change. He shrank, slimmed down, developed curves and brilliant blue scales flickered into existence all over his, no, her body. Her hair lengthened and turned bright scarlet and her eyes changed from green to golden. Her clothes transformed into a white halter-neck dress with a full skirt.

The rest of group whooped and applauded. Charles ran to hug the young woman, who hugged him back.

Erik joined in the applause.

"I'm guessing you're Raven."

"And I know you're Erik."

She hugged him. She was a lot stronger than she looked.

"I'm sorry Erik, but you should have seen your face," laughed Charles.

"I'll get you back later, you little shit," Erik whispered in his ear.

Charles looked decidedly un-terrified.

They sat down. Erik noticed Emma, Moira and a handsome, blond man, a few years older than Charles, had joined the students.

"Christian!" exclaimed Charles, hugging him almost as enthusiastically as he'd hugged his sister.

"My god, Charles, what happened to that skinny little kid who was all knees and elbows? You've filled out very nicely."

"Thanks. You look pretty damn fine yourself; tanned, ripped and relaxed."

'Ah, three months on the Great Barrier Reef will do that for you."

"Wow, maybe I'll try it myself. Oh, Erik, this is Christian, Emma's brother. Christian, this is Erik."

"Hi, Erik," said Christian, shaking hands. He had the kind of firm, dry handshake that world leaders cultivated.

"I'm Charles' claimed sub," said Erik, trying to smile, the expression feeling stiff and unnatural.

"So, you're the lucky sub that caught the flighty Charles Xavier."

"Oi, I'm not flighty, the right sub just hadn't come along yet. And then there was Erik," said Charles, kissing Erik's cheek.

"And then there was Erik," said Christian, giving Erik a smile edged with sarcasm.

"And now there's Raven!" yelled Charles' sister.

Sean started chanting, "Raven, Raven, Raven!"

The others joined in.

Moira turned to Erik. "Sometimes I forget how young they are, then I'm painfully reminded."

Erik smiled, but his attention was on Charles, who was sitting between Raven and Christian. Raven was telling everyone about her backpacking trip along the Mekong. It was all white noise to Erik. He was totally focused on the way Christian's thigh was pressed against Charles', the little touches to Charles' shoulder or wrist or knee, and how Christian kept drawing him out of the general chat into a conversation between just the two of them.

"Hey, Erik, would you mind looking at some pictures of folding mechanisms for my jewellery?"

He wrenched his gaze away from Charles and Christian and turned to Lilandra.

"Sorry?"

"You said you'd give me some advice on switchblade type mechanisms?"

"Oh, yes, sure, right."

Erik forced himself to concentrate on the pictures Lilandra showed him on her phone. He asked her what metal they were made from, how they'd been made and advised her on which were strong enough and which were likely to fail.

"If I brought some in, next time we meet, would you have a look at them?"

"I'd be happy to."

She thanked him. Gabby leant across and asked when he'd be free to visit her synagogue for that chat about security. Erik got out his diary, a paper one to Gabby's amusement, and they compared dates. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Christian drape his arm around Charles' shoulders.

"Are you alright, Erik?" asked Gabby.

"Yes, sure, fine."

"You know if this isn't convenient for you, we can leave it till later or cancel altogether."

He forced a smile. "It's not a problem."

They set a date. As Erik put his diary away, Raven plonked herself down on the seat beside him.

"You've forgotten we met at the museum gig, you and Charles both. Charles was drunk so that's his excuse and you can't really be blamed as I looked like this - "

She transformed into a fair skinned, blue eyed blonde, scales flicking out of existence.

"Ah, I remember now, sorry. You're much more memorable in your true form and much more magnificent too."

She smiled and changed back. Up close, he could hear the faint susurration of her scales as she transformed.

"I suppose I should give you the shovel talk now." She looked across at Charles and Christian, who had their heads together, deep in conversation. "Except I'm more likely to give it to Charles. Don't worry Erik, he doesn't mean anything by it, he's known Christian all his life and he hasn't seen him for a while, that's all."

"I'm not worried," lied Erik.

Raven gave him a long look. "My mutation makes me incredibly sensitive to body language and non-verbal signals. You're worried as fuck."

Erik clenched his teeth and said nothing.

"Look, they grew up together, they've got a lot in common, they're more like brothers than Dom and sub."

If she was trying to be reassuring she was doing a piss poor job. Of course Christian had a lot more in common with Charles than Erik did. Of course he was a better match for Charles in terms of background, age, financial status and everyfuckingthing else.

"Erik, he choose to collar you. That's a big thing for him. He's been dreaming about it since he was twelve years old. Charles can be arrogant and careless, but he's serious about you. He showed me how he feels about you and that shit was serious as a heart attack."

He was startled into a laugh. Perhaps she was right, perhaps he was making too big a thing out of this.

"Thanks, Raven."

"You're welcome. Now, let me bore you with tales of Vietnam."

Her tales of Vietnam were fascinating, though every now and then he had to consciously ignore Charles and Christian and focus on her. Raven had had her fair share of adventures, including a run in with a sect of monks who'd decided she was the reincarnation of an ancient spirit of the woods and wanted her to live in their temple and be worshiped. They hadn't taken her refusal too kindly, so she'd had to make a dramatic escape. Erik couldn't help admiring her resilience and competence.

"You seem like you can handle yourself."

"Yeah, I'm strong and quick and I've studied a bunch of martial arts."

"Ever studied Krav Maga?" She shook her head. "It's a military self-defense system developed for the Israeli defense and security services. It combines a range of techniques from many different disciplines. If you're interested, I can give you a lesson, see if you want to take it further?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes please, I love learning new fighting skills. Charles used to hate me doing martial arts, he was afraid I'd get hurt. After I kicked his ass a few times, he realised that if anyone was getting hurt, it wasn't me. He was all for it after that."

Erik laughed. "I've tried to teach him a few moves, but he's all "Oh, Erik, I could freeze them with my brain". Not if somebody shot him full of suppressants he couldn't."

"I guess his bodyguard would have to take care of him then," she said, smiling.

They were distracted by Alex and Sean who were playing some kind of game that seemed to involve setting fire to paper napkins. They looked to be in danger of setting fire to the table too. Everybody started shouting and throwing their drinks at the conflagration. This might have helped had their aim been better. Armando took over and calmly patted out the flames with asbestos hands, while Emma smoothed things over with the manager.

Children are so tiring, not to mention tiresome, she sent to Erik.

Kinda entertaining though, so long as you don't own the coffee shop they're burning down.

She laughed. Erik hesitated, then plunged in.

Talking of houses on fire, my Dom and your brother are getting on like one.

Oh, they've always got on well. Christian was more serious about them than Charles. He took it hard when they broke up, but they were only kids and it was Charles' first fling, so Christian soon got over it and now they're good friends.

Erik must have projected his shock because her eyes widened and her lips parted.

Erik, I thought you knew. Charles told me you knew about Lilandra and Gabby so I assumed you knew about Christian. Sugar, it was years ago, they were children, they've both moved on.

Erik snapped his attention away from Emma and onto Charles and Christian. They were leaning on each other laughing. Childhood sweethearts, fucking childhood sweethearts, and there was Christian, looking like someone off the cover of "GQ". Christian looked up and caught Erik's eye. There was something knowing in his gaze.

"Careful, Charles, I think your sub's getting jealous."

Charles looked up and sent a wave of warmth and affection at Erik.

"Well, he doesn't need to be. Erik doesn't need to be jealous of anyone, he's the only one for me."

Another wave of love and desire. Erik felt fractionally better.

Are you all right, darling? I'll ditch Christian if you want me to, it's just that I haven't seen him in ages.

Erik swallowed his insecurity. Don't be selfish, don't spoil this for Charles.

No, it's fine. I'm the one that's going to be fucking you into the mattress when we get home.

I can hardly wait.

Charles projected some absolutely filthy images at Erik.

"Charles, please, if I wanted gay porn I'd go to NakedSword.com," protested Emma.

Everybody laughed, including Christian, but his laughter didn't ring true. Yeah, fuck you, pretty boy. Erik felt a degree of reassurance and was able to talk to Moira about her detective exam without obviously clocking Charles and asswipe, aka Christian. As everybody got up to leave, Christian embraced Charles too tightly and for too long, letting his hand rest perilously close to Charles' ass and looking Erik right in the eye. Fucker. Erik restrained himself and didn't jab a spork into his face.

When they got home, Charles hurled himself at Erik and they had a quick and dirty fuck up against the door, Charles' pants and briefs discarded on the floor, Erik's jeans and boxers tangled round his ankles. As Charles wrapped his legs round Erik's waist and clenched his ass on Erik's cock, all thought of Christian disappeared in sweat and come and subspace.

"Do you think Hank's got a thing for Raven?" asked Charles, as they were recovering on the sofa watching old Star Trek re-runs.

"Didn't notice."

"I'm sure he has. They'd be perfect for each other, both switches, both with physical mutations. Raven could give him a bit more confidence, he could calm her down. Ooo, we could double date."

"She could do better than Hank in my opinion. He's a nice guy, but Raven's really special."

Charles hugged him. "I'll forgive you for disagreeing with me since you recognise Raven's wonderfulness. Oh, while I remember, is it OK if I go out with Christian on Thursday? A friend of a friend has got him a drive in the new Bugatti Chiron and I'd love to see how it performs."

Everything in Erik screamed "NO!", but he managed to keep it locked down with a Herculean effort. Jealousy was not attractive. Insecurity was not attractive. Resenting Charles' friendships was not cool.

"Yeah, that's fine," he said, somehow managing to achieve casual.

Charles rubbed his nose against Erik's cheek.

"You are the best sub in the world."

Erik bathed in his approval and praise. Everything was going to be alright. He didn't have to worry about Christian. He didn't have to worry about anything.

Of course, that's when the shit hit the fan.


	8. Chapter 8

Christian was driving over to Charles' apartment to pick him up in the Bugatti Chiron. Erik made damn sure he was there. Charles enthused about the car, while Christian looked smug. Erik nodded at Charles' exclamations of admiration, but he didn't like the Chiron. He thought it looked weird, plus the body and even some of the engine were made of carbon fibre, so it didn't feel right to him.

"Don't worry Erik, I'll take good care of him," said Christian, putting his arm round Charles' waist.

Erik gave Charles a particularly filthy kiss goodbye, eyeballing Christian as he did so. He spent the morning furiously making apfelstrudel in Charles' over equipped and underused kitchen. It seemed an eternity before Christian dropped Charles off outside the brownstone. Erik watched Charles clamber out of the car, watched Christian's hand trailing down his back and accidentally melted his spatula.

"He couldn't come in for coffee as he had to get the car back. He sent you his regards."

"What a pity and how kind of him," said Erik, flatly.

Charles didn't notice. He could be surprisingly oblivious for a telepath. He babbled away about how fast the Chiron was, how well it handled and what a good driver Christian was. Charles had taken the wheel briefly, but had almost crashed three million dollars worth of supercar into a tree, so Christian had forced him back into the passenger seat.

"It was a nice tree too, a big old oak, I wouldn't have liked to have damaged it. Oh, or the car," he said seriously.

He was so happy after his outing and so pleased Erik had made strudel, that Erik couldn't bring himself to say that, whatever Charles' feelings were for Christian, Frost had a great deal more than friendship in mind.

There were developments on the Xavier Biotech front too. Kurt Marko had suggested a weekly meeting with Charles to "bring him up to speed with recent changes in the company". Charles was suspicious.

"I think he's running scared. My networking has been very successful. I've got a lot of powerful people on my side. He knows that once the trust's wound up he'll be facing an un-winnable battle. I suspect he's going to try to win me over. I'll go anyway, just to hear what he's got to say, plus I'd like to have a good rootle round the old place."

"Be careful," said Erik.

"I will be, darling, omega-class telepath remember."

Erik was on tenterhooks waiting for Charles to come back from his meeting. When he did, he seemed quietly pleased.

"He was surprisingly consilitary. Yes, he tried to talk me round to positions I'll never adopt, but most of the time was spent talking to the top people from various departments, learning how the place is run on a day to day basis and for the longer term. Tactics, strategy, that kind of thing. It was rather fascinating."

He laughed. "Kurt had even got my favourite brand of Earl Grey and platefuls of Amaretti biscuits."

"I still don't trust the bastard," said Erik, hugging Charles.

"Oh, darling, me neither. Particularly as he had psionic disruption technology installed in his office. It wouldn't stop me getting in his head - it's only effective up to rho-class - but it would show a spike in neural activity, indicating someone, i.e. me, had been digging around. As if I'd want to get inside his vile skull."

"He's obviously hiding something."

"Of course he's hiding something. To be fair, its use is quite commonplace in data sensitive organisations."

Erik frowned. "I still don't like it."

Charles rubbed his palms up and down Erik's sides.

"I don't like it either, but I'm still going back. Most of the time I wasn't with Kurt. I just drank tea and ate biscuits with him - he had black coffee with sweeteners and wouldn't touch the Amaretti as he's trying to lose weight, fat chance, hah bloody hah - and spent the rest of the day roaming round the building. Oh, Erik, there's so much to learn."

Erik grumbled, but Charles promised to be cautious.

His worries about Marko were soon eclipsed by his worries about Charles and Christian. They went out riding together. They played tennis together. Christian took Charles to a new menswear shop and Charles came back loaded down with glossy bags of tissue wrapped clothes. All of these outings were on days when Erik was working. Erik's suspicion that this was deliberate was confirmed by Warren of all people.

"Do you want to hear something weird," he asked Erik.

"What?"

"I met Christian Frost a week or so ago and you'll never guess what he asked me."

"What?" repeated Erik.

"He asked me about your work schedule, when you were on, when you were off, like, in detail. Why the fuck would he want to know that?"

"Why the fuck indeed?" said Erik, through gritted teeth.

He wanted to talk to Charles about it, but he seemed preoccupied. Xavier Biotech no doubt. As the weeks passed, Charles was more than preoccupied. His mental touch, always so vivid, was tenuous at best and absent at worst. Erik was used to him flitting in and out of his mind like a butterfly, an ever present fluttering of soft wings on the surface of his thoughts. Now, barely a flicker. It was most noticeable when they fucked. The physical connection was still there, but the mental rapport, the sharing of sensation and emotion, was missing. Erik hadn't made it into subspace in weeks.

They stopped having real conversations. They started spending more time apart. Charles withdrew into himself. Raven noticed and asked Erik what was going on. He couldn't give her an answer, except Charles' absorption in Xavier Biotech. She wasn't satisfied with that and neither was he really. Raven asked Charles what was up, but he fobbed her off with some bullshit about the pressure of his studies.

Erik knew he had to talk to Charles about what was going on, but he was scared. He was scared he already knew the answer. They had barely met when Charles collared him. Then Christian had reappeared in his life and Charles had seen all too clearly the contrast between his childhood sweetheart and the useless sub he had claimed. Christian was young, handsome, smart, fun, rich and from the same background as Charles. He was everything Erik was not. No wonder Charles didn't want to immerse himself in Erik's fucked up psyche when he could linger in Christian's bright mindscape.

Charles was withdrawing from Erik in the hope of making the inevitable break that much easier. Erik had to talk to him, he had to. But what if that accelerated the crash and burn? What if Charles said Erik was right? What if he decided it would be kinder and better to sever their bond straight away, instead of dragging things out? Erik couldn't stand that, he couldn't. He'd die without Charles. Oh, he'd go on walking and talking and eating and sleeping, but he'd be dead inside. Everything Charles had woken in him would wither and die. He'd go back to the half life he'd known before, the life he now knew was no life at all. He kept silent and every week, every day, every hour, every minute, every second Charles drifted further and further away.

It was Warren who helped him conquer his fear.

Erik had escorted Warren to a nightclub. It was a mainly human dive, so Warren had concealed his wings under his shirt and jacket. Erik leant on the bar, drinking a club soda, trying not to think about Charles leaving him and watching Warren flirt with a couple of Dommes. Warren was doing OK, when the women's subs came back from the can. These subs obviously hadn't got the memo about being quiet and demure and took violent exception to Warren's efforts at seduction. The male sub grabbed his arms from behind. The female sub slapped Warren's face. Their Dommes looked on in amusement and shouted encouragement.

If they'd left it at that, Erik wouldn't have interfered. Then the woman punched Warren in the stomach. Erik strode towards them, powers focused on the woman's bracelet. As she pulled back for another punch, he swung her around by the wrist and dumped her on the floor. He grabbed the guy's wristwatch, hauled him off Warren and melted his watch to a pillar. The two Dommes jumped up from their seats. One of them pulled a knife, the other came at Erik with a pair of knuckle dusters. Erik melted the knife, blocked the blow with his forearm and followed through to jab the woman in the windpipe. At the same time he used his powers to punch the other Domme in the face with her own knuckle dusters.

"Behind you!" yelled Warren.

The female sub swung a wooden stool at him. Erik ducked, deflected the blow and kicked the woman in the kneecap. The guy he'd stuck to the pillar wriggled free from his watch and came at Erik with a broken bottle. Erik flicked his fingers and a metal tray leapt up from the floor and knocked the bottle out of the man's hand. Erik swept his legs from under him and got in a solid blow to the side of his head as he went down.

The music had stopped. Erik stood in a circle of groaning bodies and wrecked furniture.

"Anyone else want some?"

Apparently no one else did. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as they walked to the door. They got into the car and Erik drove down the road for a couple of miles, enough to make sure they weren't being followed, before pulling over.

"You all right?"

Warren nodded.

"Better let me have a look."

He switched the interior lights on, unbuttoned Warren's shirt and carefully felt his stomach.

"How does that feel?"

"It's a bit sore, but not too bad."

"And that?"

"Doesn't really hurt at all, just a bit tender."

"Well, you're going to have some damn fine bruises, but apart from that you're OK."

Erik started buttoning up Warren's shirt. Warren put his hands on top of Erik's.

"That's twice you've saved me."

His eyes shone with admiration and adoration. God, Charles hadn't looked at him like that in ages. Warren leant towards him and very hesitantly pressed his lips to Erik's mouth. Erik froze. Warren tried to slip his tongue into Erik's mouth. Erik gripped Warren's head in his hands and took control of the kiss, pushing his tongue between Warren's lips. He tasted of the beer he'd been drinking. They were chest to chest, all warm skin and muscle. Except, except . . .

Warren didn't smell right. He didn't taste right. He was too tall, too muscular. He wasn't Charles. He wasn't Erik's Dom. Erik drew back and pushed Warren away when he tried to follow.

"Warren, I shouldn't have done that. I'm in loco parentis to you, do you know what that means?" Warren nodded. "I'm supposed to be protecting you like a parent, not taking advantage of you. Also, that was incredibly unprofessional. A bodyguard should never have a sexual or romantic relationship with a client. Finally, I'm Charles sub, I belong to him. This, us, it just feels wrong, so wrong."

Warren looked a bit tearful. Erik sighed.

"Look, Warren, when I first met you, I thought you were a spoiled brat. I still think you're a spoiled brat, but I figure there's a pretty decent kid in there trying to get out. If you do the opposite of whatever your asshole of a dad does, you're going to turn out OK, hell, better than OK. Someday you're going to meet a Dom or maybe a sub, who knows, who cares, and it will feel right and you'll wonder what the fuck you ever saw in me. OK?"

Warren nodded.

"Let's go and get a cup of coffee. I sure as fuck need one."

They drove to a diner and ordered coffee and pie. Warren told Erik about all the ways his dad was an asshole to him. And for some reason, Erik, who never told anyone anything, told Warren about what was happening between him and Charles. Warren sat in silence for half a minute then said:

"You're a fighter Erik, you need to go fight for him, fight for Charles."

Erik stared at him. Fuck, the kid was right.

"Warren, if we hadn't established that kissing was a no no, I'd kiss you."

Warren laughed.

"How about we shake hands?"

"How about we do."

They shook.

Erik got home late that night and slid into bed next to a sleeping Charles. He didn't get much sleep, between running through what he'd say and wondering, fearfully, what the outcome would be.

Neither of them had anything on the next day, so Erik figured it was the perfect time to have a conversation he'd been avoiding for nigh on two months. Charles gradually came to, blinking, rubbing his face and dragging his fingers through his hair. He smiled at Erik, a pale imitation of the glorious grins that used to light up his whole face. There was no mental touch to go with the fake smile. Erik took a deep breath. He was terrified.

"Charles, we need to talk."

Charles shrank away from him. Erik grabbed his shoulders, held him still and gazed into those huge blue eyes.

"No, listen, Charles, you have to listen. I know Christian was your childhood sweetheart. I know meeting him again was a big deal. I know the two of you have everything in common and you and I are totally different. But there's one thing you've forgotten. I love you. I'm sure Christian's fond of you, but I love you. I love you with my heart and mind and body and soul. I need you. You need me. You complete me and I'm pretty fucking sure that I complete you. We're better together. Stronger, happier, perfectly imperfect. I'm not going to give you up, Charles. I'm going to fight for you with everything I've got. I'm going to fight dirty. If I lose, I lose, but I'm not going down without a fight."

Charles put his head in his hands and his shoulders started shaking. For a sickening moment Erik thought he was laughing. Rage and pain welled up in him like a dark, corrosive flood. Then he realised. Charles was crying. Erik held him as he sobbed and sobbed and made desperate, wounded-animal noises. When he finally stopped, his eyes were red and swollen and his nose was pink and dripping snot. Erik cleaned his face with a corner of the bed sheet and wrapped him in his arms.

"I'm very fond of Christian, but that's all. I want him for a friend, nothing else. I know he has other ideas and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't flattered, but friendship is all I'm offering. I know I've been flirting with him and I apologise for that, it was totally unfair to you. You're the one I love, you're the one I want, you're my sub, you're mine, mine, mine."

Erik felt a surge of joy and hugged Charles so tightly he squeaked. But something was wrong, not Christian, but something. Why had Charles withdrawn mentally? He pulled back so he could see Charles' face. Christ, he'd never looked so young and vulnerable. Erik would kill whoever was hurting him.

Charles made several abortive attempts to speak. Finally, very quietly, voice shaking, he said:

"Over the last six weeks my telepathy has been fading. At first I didn't notice. It varies sometimes; with my mood, my state of health, the amount of sleep I've had. Then I realised that your mind had started to feel muted, as though you'd been dialled down. Your mind's very bright Erik, it shines for me, like a forest fire or a storm cloud lit by lightening. You were growing dimmer and darker by the day. Once I'd noticed it with you, I started noticing it with everyone else; Raven, my friends, even Emma, a fellow telepath."

He stopped a moment and trembled in Erik's arms. Erik was completely blindsided. He had no idea what to do or what to say.

"It's been getting worse and worse. Even with you here in my arms, I can barely feel you and I can't read you at all. It's like that with everyone. I'm surrounded by a world of ghosts. No one feels real to me any more, they're like animated mannequins, even you. What if I lose it altogether? What if I can never feel your mind again? Or Raven's mind? What if I'm shut in this tiny, dark room forever, with the walls closing in on me?"

Erik tried to imagine losing his own powers. He couldn't. His powers were a vital part of him. He wouldn't be himself without them. And Charles powers were even more integral to his being. A cold, shrinking feeling gripped his stomach.

"Have you been to a doctor?"

"No, I'm too scared."

Erik could help with this. "Charles, you know you have to go."

"I know, I know, but I'm such a coward."

"You are not a coward. Anyone would be frightened if this shit was happening to them, I'd be terrified, but you have to go to a doctor. Why don't you call and make an appointment now, while I'm here?"

Erik summoned Charles' cell and dropped it into his hand. Charles blew his nose on the comforter, disgusting little angel that he was, then tapped the number of his personal physician. Erik listened as he made an appointment for the next day.

"Well done, baby."

Erik kissed his eyebrow.

"Some Dom I am, needing to be told what to do by my sub. Leaving you in the dark so long you thought we were breaking up."

He sniffed unromantically. Fuck, Erik loved him.

"Excuse me, but who's the Dom that's always going on about D/s roles and how we should be flexible and shit?"

"I don't remember the shit part," he said with a tiny smile.

"No, that's one kink we haven't tried. I'm game if you want to though."

"Erik," squealed Charles, "Don't be disgusting."

He slapped Erik on the thigh, then kissed him soft and slow.

"Thank you, darling."

"Hey, we're in this together, no matter what."

"Even . . . even if I'm not a mutant anymore?"

"Fuck mutants, fuck everyone who isn't you."

Charles smiled again, a little broader this time.

"I'd rather you didn't. In fact, I'd rather you fucked me right now."

"Are you sure?"

"It's the closest I can feel to you without touching your mind, so, fuck yes I'm sure."

Erik laid him back on the bed and kissed him until his lips were swollen. He kissed his way down his neck, across his shoulder and into his armpit, licking the sweat from the cluster of dark hair. Charles trembled and moaned. He worked his way down to Charles' nipple, rolling it between his teeth and sucking it into a rosy peak. He kissed each one of Charles' ribs on his way to his belly button. He stuck his tongue in the warm declivity and flicked it from side to side. Charles shifted and dragged his fingernails across Erik's shoulders and muttered:

"Lower, please, lower."

Erik nipped along the trail of hair that led to his groin. He was already half hard. Erik was no great shakes at sucking cock, but Charles was, so he tried to mimic what Charles did. He licked up the underside of his cock and probed the juncture of foreskin and shaft with his tongue. He took the head into his mouth and sucked like he'd suck a lollipop, swirling his tongue around and hollowing his cheeks. God, the earthy, musky smell and taste of him, rich and rank.

He took a little more of Charles into his mouth. There was no way he could deep throat like Charles could, so he wrapped his fingers round the base of Charles' shaft and started bobbing his head and pumping his hand.

Charles groaned and dug his nails into Erik's scalp and gasped, "Mine, Erik, you're mine and you're perfect."

The praise got Erik hard. He kept bobbing his head even though he'd got the angle slightly wrong and it was making his neck ache. Charles pressed his hand against Erik's cheek to feel the slide of his cock. He was leaking pre-come and felt like a steel rod wrapped in hot silk. Erik sucked and flattened his tongue and hummed as loud as he could. It was the vibrations that got Charles off. He shot half his load in Erik's mouth and, as Erik drew back, spurted the rest over Erik's lips and chin.

Erik knelt up on the bed, fisted his cock and came all over Charles' pale belly, leaving a little lake of come in his belly button. He felt that soaring and sinking feeling and plunged into subspace.

When he came round, Charles was pottering about getting a wash cloth and a towel. He washed and dried him as tenderly as if Erik was a baby. Erik enjoyed the view of his come dripping down Charles' stomach and out of his belly button and collecting in his pubic hair. He was sorry when Charles wiped himself down.

They spent most of the day in bed, rising to get food and drink and, in the evening, to order take-out. They didn't talk much and they didn't have sex again, but they could scarcely bear to lose physical contact for more than a few seconds. They even followed each other to the bathroom. Charles drew the line when he needed a shit though.

"Remember, not our kink."

They had a Lord of The Rings marathon, then sat in bed, sides pressed together, while Charles read "American Scientist" and Erik cleaned his guns. Charles fell asleep surprisingly early - he hadn't been sleeping well - and Erik watched him for most of the night, silently promising to give his Dom whatever he wanted no matter what.

Charles' appointment was early, so Erik let him sleep late so he wouldn't have too much time to worry about it.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"I . . . I don't think I do. It's very selfish, but I don't want to have to worry about you, about my sub, I want to be able to concentrate on myself. Does that make sense?"

Erik desperately wanted to go with Charles, but damned if he wasn't going to give Charles what he wanted.

"It makes perfect sense, baby, but promise you'll call me as soon as you're done?"

"I promise," said Charles, solemnly,

Their goodbye kiss was a desperate affair.

Erik couldn't stay in the apartment waiting to hear from Charles. He changed into his running gear, put his phone in the internal pocket of his shorts and set out for the park. The last thing he wanted was company so he took a route through a heavily wooded section that very few other runners used. As he'd expected, he had it to himself.

He was deep in amongst the trees when he felt traces of metal - zippers, buttons - nearby. He looked around but couldn't see anyone. At that precise moment, something stung him in the back of his neck. Fucking mosquitos. He clapped his hand to his neck and was stung on the back of his hand. He whipped his hand away. Some kind of ceramic dart was sticking out of it. Another dart hit his shoulder. A fourth hit his chest. He tried to reach out for any metal he could find, but a wave of darkness swallowed him whole.

When he came to he was stark naked and bound to an x-frame in a darkened room. He felt for any nearby metal. He could feel some bits and pieces, but he couldn't work out what they were and he couldn't do anything with them.

A face swam into view. Cold eyes. A cruel smile. Harsh fingers twisted into his hair and dragged his head back. A smug voice, replete with false joviality.

"Hello, Erik."

Sebastian Shaw.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rape and violence. If you do not wish to read this, skip to the end notes for a brief description of this chapter.

Shaw slapped Erik round the face a couple of times. He didn't seem to put much force into the blows, but Erik's head slammed from side to side and his ears rang. Shaw's mutation of course. He pulled a chair out of the shadows and sat in the small circle of light that illuminated the x-frame. He sipped on a bottle of Veen mineral water.

"If you let me go now, Charles might not fry your brain," bluffed Erik.

Shaw laughed.

"Little Charlie won't be frying anyone's brain. He's had such a nice time visiting Xavier Biotech, hasn't he? Wasn't it kind and considerate of Marko to give him tea and biscuits? Dear Kurt gave him a little something extra with his Earl Grey and Amaretti. A nice dose of suppressant. Same stuff I had you shot up with. Brand new from the Xavier Biotech labs. Weapons grade. Virtually undetectable unless you know to look for it. Rapidly absorbed at a cellular level, but, oh, how the effects linger."

Erik's gut clenched.

"Our sweet Charles is something of an obstacle for Kurt, you see. He wants to get rid of him. Trouble is, Charlie boy got himself a new submissive. Ex-military, works in security, all kinds of contacts. The sub seems the type to kick up a fuss if Charles shuffles off this mortal coil unexpectedly. Seems the sort who'd dig around and ask inconvenient questions."

"You fucker," hissed Erik.

"On the contrary, Erik, I'm a very good friend. A good friend to Kurt that is. I thought this up you see and put Kurt in contact with certain acquaintances of mine who have experience in this kind of thing. This is what's going to happen; you're going to be horribly murdered by anti-mutant extremists. Your badly burnt body - burnt enough to destroy evidence, but not so badly as to make you unidentifiable - will be found with a note claiming responsibility. Poor Charles will be distraught. The shock of losing his sub and losing his telepathy will send him over the edge. He'll drive his BMW off the road and perish in a tangle of crushed metal."

Terror swept over him, not so much for himself as for Charles. Oh, God, let him die, but not Charles, not Charles.

"You fucking bastard, you shit, you fucking piece of shit, I'm going to kill you, I'm going to tear you apart!"

Shaw stood up.

"No, Erik, I'm going to tear you apart. But first, I'm going to show you what you've been missing. I'm going to show you what it's like to be fucked by a real Dom."

He adjusted the frame until Erik's head was at crotch level. Erik thrashed in his bonds, digging them into his wrists and ankles, drawing blood. They didn't budge an inch. Shaw unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock. He stroked himself a few times and rubbed it against Erik's lips. Erik frantically shook his head and clenched his teeth. Shaw took hold of his jaw and wrenched his mouth open with inhuman strength. He jammed his half hard cock into Erik's mouth. Erik bit down as hard as he could. Shaw yelped, then his mutation kicked in and Erik's head jerked back.

Shaw stood there smiling, with his cock hanging out.

"Just for that I'm going to fuck you dry. But first . . ."

He stepped into the shadows and returned holding a leather flogger, threaded with small metal beads.

"I thought you'd appreciate the metal, Erik."

"Fuck you," growled Erik, "Fuck you, I'm going to rip your head off and shit down the hole!"

"Oh, Erik, I had no idea you were so amusing."

Shaw brought the frame upright again. He stood behind Erik. He drew the tails of the flogger very slowly and very gently across Erik's back.

"I've been wanting to do this since the first time I saw you," he whispered, breath hot on Erik's ear.

"I've been wanting to kick your face in ever since I met you, you pencil-dicked douchebag," snarled Erik.

Shaw laughed and sank his teeth into Erik's earlobe, biting down until he tore off the tip. Erik didn't make a sound. Shaw stepped back and swung the flogger. The ends of the cords just brushed Erik's back. The second stroke connected properly. Lines of fire scored his back. He arched in his restraints, but didn't cry out. Shaw swung again. The flogger swished through the air. The cords and the metal beads dug into Erik's flesh. Erik choked down a scream. Shaw wrenched the flogger back. Blood streamed down Erik's back.

Again and again Shaw whipped him. Again and again Erik refused to cry out. Cut fell on cut fell on cut. Shaw used his mutation to increase the force of the blows. Erik felt as though his back and buttocks and thighs were being sliced into ribbons, as though he was being torn to shreds. The pain pulsed through his whole body, throbbing, stabbing, burning. He wasn't going to scream, he wasn't, he'd make Charles proud, he wouldn't let his Dom down.

The blows ceased. Erik sagged in his restraints, head drooping. Blood flowed down his chin. He'd bitten through his lip in his determination not to cry out. Shaw walked round to face him. He dropped the flogger on the concrete floor. He pinched Erik's chin between finger and thumb and forced his head up.

"My, you are a stubborn one aren't you? I admire your capacity for punishment. Such a pity I have to kill you. I'd really rather like to keep you."

"Nah, you'd bore me to death," rasped Erik and spat a great gobbet of blood and phlegm in Shaw's smug face.

He had the brief satisfaction of seeing Shaw's face twist with fury before he cracked Erik's head against the edge of the x-frame. He stepped back.

"I like this suit, wouldn't want to get it bloody," he said, stripping off his clothes and folding them on the chair.

"Couldn't you at least have undressed behind me and spared me the sight if your sagging moobs?" gasped Erik.

Yep, that had pissed him off, based on the punch to the gut that comment earned him. Jesus, it felt like he'd ruptured something. Shaw walked behind him.

"You're going to love this, Erik. You should be grateful to me for showing you what it's like with a real Dom before you die."

"So when's the real Dom turning up?"

That got him a punch to the kidneys and, probably, some internal bleeding. Shaw's chest pressed against his back. The pressure against his wounds was unbearable. He passed out. Shaw brought him round by digging his nails into his balls.

"You'll want to be awake for this, Erik."

"Sorry, you're so boring I dropped off."

Nails raked his cock. Erik nearly swallowed his tongue. Shaw fumbled around behind him, positioning his cock at Erik's hole. Erik clenched his buttocks and his ass as hard as he could. Shaw pushed in relentlessly, his strength overcoming Erik's resistance. His cock felt like a red hot poker. Erik felt himself tear. He wouldn't scream, he wouldn't.

"Can't tell," he whispered.

"What?"

"Can't tell if you've got it in yet."

Shaw cursed and started thrusting harder and faster than any human could. The impact of his body on Erik's torn flesh and the searing drag of his cock sent the pain soaring and plunged Erik into darkness. When he came round, Shaw was still pumping, breathing wetly on the back of Erik's neck. With a hoarse cry he came, come burning Erik's abused hole. He hung on Erik for a long moment, then pulled out. Erik couldn't keep a sob from escaping his throat.

Shaw strolled casually round to face him. He was covered in Erik's blood. He gave him a triumphant smile.

"I've made you mine now."

Erik laughed. His laughter was bordering on hysterical and perilously close to tears, but it was genuine.

"You moron. The only Dom I'll ever belong to is Charles."

Shaw's smile disappeared.

"Well, he'll be joining you soon."

He raised his hands. They started to glow. Erik could feel the heat beating on his face. He closed his eyes. He didn't want the last thing he saw to be Shaw. Instead he conjured up an image of Charles. Charles in one of Erik's jumpers, neckline slipping off his shoulder, laughing and teasing. Charles was smart. Even without his telepathy he'd figure out Erik's death wasn't down to human supremacists. He'd work it out. He'd survive. Hell, he'd fuck Shaw and Marko over. Erik could smell his hair starting to burn.

I love you Charles.

The heat faded.

I love you Erik.

Erik opened his eyes.

Shaw stood as still as a statue, frozen with hands outstretched towards Erik. On Erik's left stood Emma Frost, eyes narrowed in fierce concentration. On his right, fingers pressed to his temple, was Charles.

Erik let out a gasping sob.

It's alright, darling, it's alright, I'm here now my love, I'm here.

Charles, Charles, Charles, was all Erik could manage.

Charles, we can't hold Shaw for long. What are we going to do with him?

That was Emma.

Erik felt Charles' rage swirl around them like a tornado.

I'm going to tear him apart. I'm going to make him suffer everything he did to Erik a thousand times over. I'm going to make him burn.

No, projected Erik.

He has to suffer, he has to die for what he did to you.

Charles' mental voice thrummed with shame and pain and fury. Erik felt a mental nod of agreement from Emma.

He's too dangerous for us to let him live. He'd never stop trying to get revenge. Trust me, sugar, I know.

I don't want him to live. I want him to die. I want to be the one that kills him.

The two telepaths turned to look at him.

You've never killed, Charles. I have. Let me do this for you. I want to do this for you. I need to do it for me.

Huge tears slid down Charles' face. He nodded. Shaw twitched slightly. Charles turned to him, forehead furrowed in concentration, lips twisted in a snarl. He looked feral, as though he was a second away from tearing Shaw's throat out.

Emma released Erik from the frame. He staggered and almost fell. She put her arms round him for support. The pressure on his back made him draw in a long, thin gasp of pain. With Emma's help, he stumbled towards Shaw. Charles stood over Shaw, fingers clamped to both temples. Shaw fell to his knees, a thread of spittle dangling from his lips, eyes alight with pain. Erik could feel the edges of this vast, overwhelming weight, Charles' wrath bearing down on Shaw. Shaw fell backwards, skull hitting the concrete with a satisfying crack.

Erik reached up to touch his collar, the collar that Shaw hadn't bothered to take off. It fell into his hand. He had just enough power to reshape it into a gleaming blade. He knelt at Shaw's side and pressed the microscopically sharp edge against Shaw's throat. A trickle of blood sidled down his neck.

"You're not a Dom, you're not a man, you're dead meat," he whispered.

He drove the blade through Shaw's flesh, using more muscle than mutation, through his windpipe, the arteries and veins and through his spinal cord. Blood gushed out. Shaw's head rolled to one side. Erik collapsed beside the corpse. For some reason he felt very tired. Why did everything have to hurt so much? It hurt so much.

Charles sat down on the floor beside him. He stroked Erik's hair, about the only part of him that didn't hurt. Warmth and light flooded his mind and body. The pain eased off a little and then a lot. 

Charles looked terrible, so pale his skin was almost translucent, great shadows under his eyes, cold sweat on his brow.

"You look terrible," said Erik. "We should get you to a hospital."

Charles gave an awful, choked, sobbing laugh.

"That's . . . that's a good idea. Emma?"

Emma closed her eyes for a second. There was a "pfft" noise and the smell of sulphur.

Erik knew he was hallucinating because a devil had just appeared in front of him. Red skin, horns, a forked tail, black goatee and two swords, dripping with blood. Also, quite a smart suit.

"Mercy General please, Azazel," said Emma.

They all held hands and "pfft'd" into nonexistence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shaw reveals that Marko has been dosing Charies with suppressants. They plan to murder Erik and make it look as though a grief stricken Charles has committed suicide. Shaw flogs and rapes Erik. Just as he is about to incinerate him, Charles and Emma arrive and freeze him. Erik decapitates Shaw. Azazel teleports them to hospital.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, it will get better.

Erik woke up in a hospital bed. He unfurled his powers. He felt out the metal frame of his bed, the equipment at his bedside, the I-beams that held up the building and the cars in the parking lot. God, it felt good. Things still hurt, especially his back, but not as much as he'd expected. No doubt the IV drip in the back of his hand had something to do with that.

Charles was curled up fast asleep on a seat at his bedside, wearing scruffy jeans and a ratty sweatshirt. There were dark shadows under his eyes and his hair was a disaster area. It was uncannily like the last time he'd been in hospital, except Emma Frost hadn't been stretched out on a sofa on the other side of the room. As if thinking her name had magically summoned her, she opened her eyes, sat up and stretched. How the fuck did she manage to look like the front cover of "Vogue" when she'd been sleeping in her clothes?

Sheer class, sugar, and the correct choice of fabrics.

He grinned.

She stood up and walked over to the bed, standing on the other side to Charles.

"I won't ask how you're feeling. You look shitty enough that I don't want to know," she said quietly.

"I'm overwhelmed by your compassion."

"Me too, honey, me too. You'd like some private time with Charles."

It was a statement, not a question. She stepped softly from the room, gently touching her fingers to Charles' hair as she passed him.

Emma. She paused in the doorway. Thank you.

She nodded and gave him a kind of mental nudge, like a friendly cat pressing her head into his hand.

He looked at Charles. His Dom. He was snoring genteelly. Ink from his magazine - "Nature" - had transferred to the tip of his nose. He watched him sleep for a while, a long while. He'd thought he'd never see Charles again, so it was pretty fucking fine just looking at him. Charles stirred. Big blue eyes opened. He rubbed the back of his hand across his face.

ERIK!

Erik was blinded by light and colour and deluged by surge after surge of love, warmth, guilt, sorrow, love, love, love. When his head cleared, Charles was lying on the bed beside him, hands and face pressed to Erik's chest. Erik put his arms round him and hugged him close. It hurt his ribs and strained the wounds on his back, but he didn't care. Charles obviously picked up on his discomfort and wriggled backwards a little. Erik projected "love, joy, my Dom, my Charles," just as hard as he could. Charles smiled through his tears. They lay there as the sun moved round the room, picking out the colours in the vases of flowers and striping the Monet "Waterlilies" reproduction on the wall.

Erik was loathe to break the comforting silence, but he had a lot of questions.

"What happened, baby, how did you find me?"

"It was Emma. You know how she keeps, kept, an eye on Shaw ever since she left him?"

Erik nodded.

"Well, she'd been picking up that he was planning something for ages. She knew it was bad, but that was all. He's good at shielding and pushing thoughts down deep where they're hard to reach. Ironically, Emma taught him how. So, a couple of days before you were kidnapped, she picked up that it concerned you and me. The day you were snatched, she got it all. The bastard was gloating, fuck him."

"Why didn't she call the police?"

"She did, but they said she'd obtained the info illegally, so they couldn't act. If Moira had been home it might have been different, but she was on a course. Emma contacted me and an old friend, Azazel."

"The red guy?"

Charles smiled. "He is rather distinctive isn't he? He used to work for Shaw, but wanted to get out. Emma helped him so he owed her. A debt that's more than been repaid in my opinion. Anyway, he zapped us to you, then took care of the various goons Shaw had stationed round the place."

It all made sense, except for one thing.

"Your telepathy, how come you were able to use it?"

Charles looked guilty.

"What did you do?" demanded Erik.

Charles bit his lip.

"Tell me."

"I . . . I may have stopped by Xavier Biotech and shot myself up with anti-suppressants."

"Charles!" yelled Erik. "Do you know how dangerous those things are? Twenty percent of people who take a high dosage - and I bet you used a massive dose - suffer serious side-effects; stroke, paralysis, brain damage. You could have killed yourself!"

"But I didn't, I've been checked out and I'm fine."

"Promise me you'll never do anything like that again."

"Yes, Erik."

"You must be more careful."

"Yes, Erik."

"Are you just agreeing with everything I say?"

"Yes, Erik."

"You're an idiot."

"Yes, Erik."

"Your nose is too big."

"Yes, Erik."

"Your hair's too long."

"Oi," protested Charles. "My hair's perfect."

Erik kissed his hair.

"No it's not, it's messy, it needs a wash, it's greasy and it smells a bit of fried food."

"I've been eating a lot of take-out."

Erik kissed his eyebrows, his eyelids, his too big nose and his full lips.

"You could do with brushing your teeth, too."

"Bastard," muttered Charles, snuggling into him.

They cuddled for a bit.

"So, what's my damage?"

Charles frowned. "You have a hairline skull fracture, three broken ribs, a bruised kidney, massive lacerations to the back, buttocks and thighs, and significant rectal tearing."

Guilt, shame and remorse poured off him.

"Charles," said Erik, gently, "You saved me, you and Emma, you saved me."

"From dying, yes, but not from . . . from . . . not from the . . . the rest."

His looked haunted.

"You're my sub, Erik, I'm your Dom, I'm supposed to protect you and I let you down."

"No, Charles, no. You saved me and you damn near killed yourself to do it. I'm alive, I'm here with you, we're together, that's all that matters."

Charles shook his head.

"When you collared me you promised to give me what I needed. What I need is for you to forgive yourself. Please, do it for me."

Charles took a deep breath. "I'll try Erik. It won't be easy, but if it's what you need I'll do my damnedest."

Erik licked the tears from his cheeks. Charles gave him a misty smile.

"What happened to Marko?"

Charles expression hardened. "He shot himself as the police were breaking down his door," he said coldly. "Talking of the police, we're going to lie to them. None of us know Azazel and we can't describe him because he teleported too quickly for us to get a proper look at him. Also, Shaw," he spat out the name, "broke free from Emma and me, so you had to kill him in self defence."

"OK."

"I'd resurrect him a hundred times if I could, so you could kill him over and over again."

His voice was bleak.

Erik kissed him and petted him and stroked his back and sides. Charles sighed and nestled like a baby bird. A baby bird that could kill you with its mind. A nurse came in and insisted Charles got off the bed while she checked Erik. He sulked in the background until she'd finished, then climbed back on again. He read Erik excerpts from "Nature". A nursing assistant brought in an early dinner; "tea" according to Charles. There was more than enough for two and it was delicious.

"Of course it's good, I'm paying."

Erik surprised himself by being famished. After dinner - "tea" - Charles drew a chess grid on the back of his magazine and Erik made some pieces out of a non-structural section of the bed frame. Charles beat him hands down in the first two games. Erik won the third suspiciously easily.

"Did you let me win?"

Charles made his eyes go big. "Of course not, darling."

Charles helped him to the bathroom, which was wearyingly painful and took an inordinately long time. Erik was exhausted by the time he got back to bed and ready to fall asleep.

"You rest, darling. I'll be right here."

He kissed Erik goodnight, got a pillow and a blanket from a cupboard, kicked off his shoes and settled down on the sofa. Erik's last waking image was of bright blue eyes watching him intently.

Erik was in hospital for six days. He would have been discharged sooner, but some of the wounds on his back weren't healing as well as expected, so he had to have a couple of sessions with a mutant with healing powers.

Charles' friends and sister wanted to visit him, but Erik couldn't face that. He could tolerate Emma, whose cold, acerbic, sarcasm he found strangely soothing. They sent him presents instead. Raven and Hank - "they're a thing now" - sent him a book on the history of the submissives' rights movement. Alex gave him a puzzle book so fiendish even Charles struggled. Sean sent a blunt, which they shared one evening, then had to open all the windows despite it being a chilly autumn night. Erik was sure the nurses were still suspicious.

"I wouldn't worry too much, darling. Xavier money paid for most of the new oncology wing."

Lilandra gifted him a plain steel bracelet, with a feather switchblade charm attached. Gabby sent a card with a Hebrew prayer and wrote that everyone at her synagogue was praying for him. Armando gave the best present of all, a big iron ingot. Erik spent hours manipulating it when Charles wasn't reading to him, or they weren't watching crap television, or playing speed chess. He loved to feel the metal flow between his fingers. He'd spilt it into smaller and smaller spheres and send them flying round the room in increasingly faster and more complicated orbits. He sculpted it into abstract forms and then started copying the flowers he'd been sent.

A couple of detectives visited and interviewed them seperately. They'd got their story together and lied like champions.

They went from the hospital to Charles' apartment near the University of Columbia. Erik began to feel that things could only get better.

Things got worse.

He had his first nightmare two days after getting home. He was tied to the x-frame and Shaw was fucking him and fucking him and fucking him. He fell out of bed and thrashed around on the floor. When Charles switched the light on, Erik was surrounded by a cloud of floating blades, formed from his ingot. After that they came thick and fast. Usually he was strapped to the frame, being whipped or fucked. Once, he was tied to a chair and his mother and father stepped into the light. Shaw stood behind them. He touched his hands to their shoulders and they started to burn. They burnt until they were nothing but glowing cinders that drifted apart in fine black flakes. He paced round the apartment, rejecting Charles' company, reminding himself that cancer got his mother and a heart attack his father, not Shaw, not Shaw.

The worst was when he was bound to the chair and Charles was tied to the frame and Shaw . . . Shaw, no, no, he couldn't bear it, no! He shot out of bed, light fittings exploding into fragments, the steel bones of the building groaning in sympathy. Charles offered to help, to go into Erik's head and dampen things down a bit. Erik refused, he couldn't have Charles seeing that, he couldn't.

He insisted that Charles went to his lectures and tutorials.

"I'm fine," he lied, "besides, your security system is cutting edge and I'd shred anyone before they even got through the door."

Reluctantly, Charles went. Erik was OK the first few times, nervous, but nothing unmanageable. Then he started to worry. What if Shaw's "associates" were still out there? What if they wanted revenge? What if they were watching the apartment, waiting for Charles to leave, armed with suppressants and disruption tech? He sent his powers searching through the building and beyond. He checked the security system a dozen times. He made sliders from his ingot and moved the furniture to block the door and the windows. When Charles came home, he couldn't get in and Erik had to move it all back again. He started to blockade the apartment at night, even when Charles was home.

Charles tried to talk to him about it, but he wasn't coping too well himself. He was drowning in guilt and shame. A conversation that began with Erik's nightmares and home protection activities ended with Charles bitterly blaming himself.

"If I hadn't been so stupidly naive as to accept Kurt's offer, none of this would have happened, none of it."

Erik felt something cruel stir, something dark that wanted to inflict his pain on someone else.

"Maybe you're right, maybe if you hadn't been such a heedlessly optimistic moron it wouldn't have happened."

Charles' eyes widened. "Erik . . ."

"You keep blaming yourself, even though I told you not to, even though it's the last thing I need, so perhaps you're right to take the blame, perhaps it is your fault for being a privileged, arrogant child!"

Charles' eyes filled with tears.

"Oh, are you going to cry now? Are you going to make it all about you? It's always about the Dom anyway, isn't it? Boo fucking hoo, "I failed to protect my sub", never mind what the sub's going through."

Tears streamed down Charles' face.

"It's not like that Erik, it's not like that. Of course it's about you."

He moved to embrace Erik, who shook him off.

"Yeah, it's about me being damaged goods now. I was never much of a sub and now I'm a fucking wreck. Why don't you get yourself a new one, Charles? How about Christian, he'd be only too happy to step into my shoes?"

Charles reached for his hand. Erik snatched it away.

"I don't want Christian, I couldn't give a fuck about Christian, I want you. You're my sub, I'm your Dom, I want you."

Erik sneered.

"Oh yeah? So how come I'm not wearing a collar? Why haven't I got a new collar?"

"I . . . I thought maybe you'd weren't ready."

He laughed, ugly and harsh.

"Or maybe you're keeping your options open?"

"Wait, Erik, wait, I've . . ."

He disappeared into the bedroom and rummaged around in the bottom of the wardrobe. Erik stood there, shaking, wondering why he was saying these things. Did he really mean them? Some part of him did. Another part wanted to collapse at Charles' feet and beg forgiveness for allowing Shaw to take what belonged to Charles. 

Charles returned from the bedroom with something in his hand. He held it out to Erik.

"I made this when I was thirteen. I used to dream about my future sub. I made this for them, for you."

Erik took the thing from his fingers. It was a simple leather plait, with magnetic fastenings at either end.

"So this is what I'm worth to you, Charles? This cheap piece of crap that you made when you were a dumb kid, jerking off thinking about fucking your sub."

He threw it into the far corner of the room.

Charles stared at him as if he didn't know him. Sorrow flooded the air between them, seeping into the cracks in Erik's mind, cold and dark and weighing him down.

"I don't know what to say."

"Well, that makes a fucking change. You always know what to say, whether it's out loud or with your mind. Confront you with the truth and you're dumbstruck."

"Would . . . would you be alright if I went out for a little while?"

Erik stepped forward and shoved his chest, hard, forcing him back.

"Alright, I'd be better than alright, I'd be overfuckingjoyed. You run away Charles, you piss off, and don't worry about coming back."

Charles picked up his coat and walked silently out of the door, desperation trailing after him in long chains.

As soon as the door shut behind him, Erik wanted to call him back, to apologise, to say he didn't mean it, he loved Charles, he was just terrified that Charles couldn't love him anymore, not after what had happened. He reined his thoughts in. It was no good. It was too late. Shaw had ruined everything. Even from beyond the grave he was fucking with them.

Erik blockaded the apartment. He searched for Charles' collar with his powers, drawing it to him. He clutched it in his hands, then pressed the worn leather to his lips. He wound it round his forearm, under his sweatshirt.

He was in bed, though not asleep, when Charles came home. He moved the furniture, then slid it back when Charles was safely inside. He listened to him moving around, taking off his coat, going to the bathroom. His misery followed him, a shadow at his heels. He stood in the bedroom door. Erik pretended to be asleep, not that a telepath would be fooled. Apparently Charles didn't want to look. Erik couldn't blame him. Why the fuck would he want to get into Erik's head? Charles quietly collected a blanket and retired to the sofa. Erik knew he'd fallen asleep because the grey fog of wretchedness lifted slightly.

Erik lay awake for hours, rubbing his fingers over the leather plait wrapped around his arm.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting better.

They tiptoed around each other for almost a month, superficially normal. They'd talk about Charles' day - Erik's consisted of pacing the apartment, constantly alert for threats - and domestic stuff. They'd eat dinner together, Erik choking down food that stuck in his throat. They'd sit side by side on the sofa, Charles reading, Erik staring unseeing at the TV. They'd lie in bed together, not touching, inches between them stretching into miles. They didn't talk about Erik's nightmares or his blockading of the apartment. They didn't talk about Charles hesitance to touch him or the weight of despair that was crushing him.

Erik was sick of this. He'd been through worse in the military. He could cope. The nightmares and paranoia would ease if he could get out and do something.

"I called Worthington the other day. I'm going back to work."

Charles stared. "What? It's too soon Erik, you're not ready."

"How do you know? You haven't been in my head for weeks."

"You said you didn't want me to."

"Didn't exactly fight it, did you? You were relieved not to have to get in here."

Erik tapped his head.

Charles shook his.

"No, Erik, that's not true, I've missed your mind."

"Really? OK, come on in."

He felt the warmth of Charles mental touch. He projected the blade cutting right through Shaw's throat, the resistance of flesh to metal, the metallic smell of the blood, the feel of the iron pooling under Shaw's severed neck. The warmth withdrew and Charles' head snapped back.

"Didn't think so. Anyway, I'm going back to work. I can't stand being here any longer. Can't stand being stuck here with you."

Charles struggled for words.

"If you genuinely think it will help, I won't stand in your way."

"I'm not asking for your permission, Charles. You gave up all rights as my Dom when you let Shaw torture and rape me."

Charles face went quite white. There was a vibration in the air, as though Erik had kicked a hornets' nest. Then it was gone and Charles was getting to his feet.

"You're right, Erik. I failed you. I let terrible things happen to you and I did nothing. I'm not your Dom, I'm not fit to be anyone's Dom."

His voice was quiet and dead. A sensation of chill numbness flowed out from him. He went and shut himself in his study.

Erik wanted to scream after him:

"No, you saved me, you risked your life to save me. You are my Dom, you'll always be my Dom, I'm yours, yours forever, even though I'm ruined and broken and worthless."

He said nothing. He went and knelt in the shower, freezing water beating down on him, fingers twisted into the leather plait tied round his upper arm.

Charles left early the next morning. Erik put his barricades in place and sat in bed, tying and retying the collar round his arm, rocking gently back and forth. There was a knock at the door. He checked the visitor out. Lots of jewellery, but no weapons. He ignored them. They knocked again, imperatively.

"Fuck off!"

Either you let me in of your own volition or I'll make you.

Emma?

No, it's the fucking Thanksgiving turkey. Let me in you asshole.

Erik felt a twinge of something other than his usual low level despair. He pulled on some grubby sweats, moved his barricades and opened the door. Emma was a vision in a fitted white dress, white cashmere coat and white snakeskin boots. Diamonds glittered on her ears, throat and fingers. Her lip curled.

"You look and smell disgusting."

"What do you want?"

"The pleasure of your company, sugar."

"Well, I don't want yours."

"Liar," she said calmly, took off her coat, hung it by the door and went to sit on the sofa.

"Make me a coffee, a proper one, none of that instant rubbish."

She sat there like a queen while Erik brewed her coffee. He brought it over to the coffee table and sat beside her.

She looked him full in the face.

"You need help."

He sneered. "From you?"

"Oh, honey, no, no, no. I like Charles and for some inexplicable reason I like you. Moira ordered me not to come, but I ignored her. I do that quite a lot. I do so enjoy the punishment she metes out. Charles has been making valiant efforts to seem OK. It's tragic. He wants to help you, but he's too close, he's too fucked up himself. You need professional help."

He laughed, bitter and mocking.

"So that's your solution, the shrink's going to fix everything?"

"No, Erik, the psychiatrist is going to help you and Charles fix things."

"Fuck off, Emma."

She turned the full force of her power on him. It was like a wall of ice pressing on his skull.

"Do you love Charles?"

His throat tightened. The words were too big to come out of his mouth. He nodded.

"Do you want to be his sub?"

He rubbed the collar through the fabric of his sleeve. He nodded again.

"Do you want him to be your Dom?"

He managed to push out a whispered "Yes."

"Then do this one thing for him."

"OK."

She smiled at him, the warmest smile he'd ever seen on her lips.

"I know a guy, the police use him. He's a mutant and ex-military. You'll like him." She paused. "No, you'll hate him, but that'll work. Also, he's got . . . no, I'll let you find out for yourself. Here's his number. Call and make an appointment now."

He obediently called the number, spoke to a sweet sounding southern girl and made an appointment for the day after tomorrow.

"Good boy. I'd better go home and face the music with Moira. Tell Charles, he'll be pleased."

She left in a waft of expensive perfume. Erik felt a tiny bit better, which was ridiculous, the shrink wouldn't be able to help, no one could help. All the same, Erik changed into his running kit and went out for a run. It was the first time he'd been out of the apartment in weeks. He headed for his favoured wooded spot. Just as he was about to plunge into the trees, he remembered. He stopped dead, feeling sick and faint. He had to go back, he had to get back to the apartment and barricade himself in. He tried to control his breathing. In, out, in, out, in, out. Gradually he calmed. He could do this. He set off amongst the trees. He didn't see another soul except an old lady walking her poodle. He'd never run so fast in all his life, but he made it. When he got home he showered and knocked up a pasta dish for dinner.

When Charles came home he sniffed the air.

"Have you been cooking?"

"Yeah, just pasta bake. I went for a run too."

Charles stared.

"That's great. I'm just going to shower, then I'll be right with you."

"No hurry."

Erik opened a bottle of Rioja. Charles looked surprised and pleased. They didn't talk much during dinner, but the silence wasn't as oppressive as usual. After dinner they settled on the sofa, Charles with a copy of "Genetics Now".

"Emma came round today," Erik blurted out.

"Oh, that's nice?"

"We talked, I'm going to a psychiatrist."

Charles' surprise and pleasure flowed over him like warm honey.

"I . . . I'm proud of you Erik. I know you're not a believer in that sort of thing and I know it must have been very difficult to make that step. You're a strong man."

"I did it for you," said Erik, voice scarcely audible.

"For me? Thank you, darling, thank you so much."

Very hesitantly, as though Erik was some fragile and delicate thing, Charles took his hand.

"You remember that speech about fighting for you, when I thought Christian was the problem, well, I'm still fighting."

Charles squeezed his hand. He couldn't seem to find any words. His mind wrapped round Erik like a velvet blanket. They did the same thing they'd done for weeks, Charles read, Erik watched TV, but their thighs were pressed together as tightly as their minds. Later that night, when terrible dreams woke Erik in a sheen of cold sweat, he let Charles use his mental and physical touch to calm him and sooth him back to sleep.

The day of Erik's appointment did not get off to an auspicious start. Charles hovered round him like an anxious parent dropping their precious baby off at school for the first time. He lurked in the bathroom while Erik showered. He hung around while Erik dressed. He wanted Erik to eat breakfast though he had no appetite. He wanted to come with Erik when he preferred to go alone. He wanted Erik to take the car when he was hell bent on riding the subway.

In the end, Erik couldn't take any more. He grabbed Charles by his watch and hurled him across the room.

"Stop being such a control freak of a Dom!"

Charles bared his teeth.

"I'll show you a fucking controlling Dom!"

Erik was frozen to the spot. He could blink. He could breathe. He couldn't move and he couldn't use his powers. A look of total shock crossed Charles' face. He released him. Erik dived out of the door and levitated down the stairwell so fast it was damn near free fall.

sorrysorrysosorrydid'ntmeanitsosorryerikerikerik

Erik pictured Shaw's trachea parting under his knife. Charles' mental voice faded out. Erik sat on the subway train, letting all those tons of hurtling metal sooth him. He walked up and down outside the psychiatrist's building for five minutes before he could bring himself to go in. The guy's office was homely rather than smart. The receptionist, small, with a white streak in her dark hair, told him to go right in.

As soon as he stepped through the door he felt it. He'd have felt it from several blocks away if he hadn't been so distracted. Adamantium. Very rare. Prohibitively expensive. Impossibly hard to process. And it was inside his psychiatrist. Dr James Howlett was a huge, muscular man, with the weirdest hair Erik had ever seen and he was full of adamantium. Erik couldn't help feeling it out.

"Could you not do that, bub?"

"Sorry, it's just I'm metallokinetic so it's hard to resist your . . . bones?"

Dr Howlett held out his clenched fist. Three long, wonderfully sharp blades of adamantium emerged from his knuckles. Erik's powers were irresistibly drawn to them. Howlett retracted his, well, claws and his skin knitted together over the wounds.

"I got a powerful regenerative factor. Military thought it would be a great idea to graft adamantium to my bones. Fuckers."

Howlett was possibly the least likely psychiatrist Erik could ever have imagined.

"Sit down."

Erik sat in the comfortable chair opposite Howlett's desk.

"So, what can I do you for?"

Now came the tough part.

"I've been having some problems," said Erik, stiffly.

"Want to tell me about them?"

You were supposed to be honest with your psychiatrist, weren't you?

"No."

"OK."

"OK? Aren't you supposed to try to persuade me to talk?"

"Hey, it's your dollar, bub. Well, your several hundred dollars. We could talk about something else."

"What?"

"Sports? Ice-hockey?"

Erik felt was though he was having an out of body experience.

"I hate ice-hockey."

"Football?"

"Do you mean American football or real football?"

"Soccer? We can talk about that if you like."

Thus Erik found himself educating a hairy, metal filled, Canadian psychiatrist on the Bundesliga, with particular reference to Bayern München and their great rivals Borussia Dortmund.

"OK, bub, time's up, make an appointment with my receptionist for Friday. I figure I need to see you at least twice a week, maybe three times."

"And you worked that out from listening to me talk about football for an hour and a half?" Erik troweled on the sarcasm.

"I worked that out from you wasting hundreds of bucks talking about soccer when your body language is constantly switching from fight to flight, you reek of adrenaline and cortisol and you haven't had a decent night's sleep in weeks. I got enhanced senses."

Perhaps he wasn't as dumb as he looked.

Howlett sighed.

"Look, Frost referred you to me. She's a bitch, but she's a smart bitch. If she thinks you need to see me, you probably do. So, Friday?"

Erik swallowed.

"Friday."

When he got home, Charles was out. He wandered around the apartment, absentmindedly tidying up Charles' mess and wondering what the fuck he'd got himself into. When Charles got home he seemed very subdued and didn't ask about Erik's appointment. Erik didn't understand why until he remembered how they'd parted. He wasn't sure who needed to apologise, probably both of them.

After dinner - Thai take-out - he asked Charles if he'd like to hear about the psychiatrist. Charles looked pathetically grateful at the offer.

"Why don't I show you?"

Opening his mind to Charles was a kind of peace offering.

"Are you sure? After my display this morning I'd think you'd want me to keep out," he said, looking ashamed.

"Hey, we all act like assholes sometimes, God knows I do. Come on in."

Late spring warmth and sunlight filtered into his mind. Butterfly wings brushed his thoughts with iridescence. God, he wanted to get back to having him in his head all the time. He brought his memories of Dr Howlett to the fore. He felt Charles ruffling though them like a breeze through leaves.

"Hmm, he's odd, but he seems unusually perceptive. If Emma recommended him, he must be good. What do you think?"

"I think I'm going back."

Charles smiled. He leant into Erik to kiss his cheek. At the last moment, Erik turned his head so Charles kissed him on the lips. Charles froze, then very gently carried on kissing Erik. They ended up kissing for a good twenty minutes, no tongues, just lips, all over each other's faces and necks. Erik stopped it when he felt himself getting hard. Charles looked a bit hot and bothered too. That night Erik barricaded the door, but didn't bother with the windows.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still improving.

Erik had visited Dr Howlett - "Call me Logan, ain't nobody calls me James and I hate Jimmy" - five times in a fortnight. He hadn't gone back to work at Logan's recommendation.

"Chances are you'd flay the first guy to look at you wrong."

Logan taught him breathing exercises and relaxation techniques. Erik talked a little about his parents, his time in the military, his experiences as a sub and, of course, Charles. He tried to bring up the Bundesliga, but Logan gave him a world weary stare.

"Next time bring in some metal, I want to try something."

Things at home were uneven, sometimes relatively normal (for a given value of normal), sometimes unnaturally quiet but fraught with underlying tension, sometimes exploding into bitter words and, once, violence. They'd been fighting over something, Erik couldn't even remember what, when he'd thrown up his hands to push Charles away, got the distance wrong and caught Charles in the mouth with the flat of his hand. Charles' lip had bled. He'd kept telling Erik it was alright, but Erik had felt like a murderer, which, of course, he was.

He brought his ingot to the next session.

"OK, Erik, I want you to think about what happened. Don't say anything, just think about it and use the metal to show what happened, express your feelings, take out your pain and anger, whatever. OK?"

Erik felt cold sweat break out under his armpits. He could do this, as long as he didn't have to talk about it, he could do this.

"Alright, Erik, take it from the start."

Erik levitated the ingot into a clear space on Logan's desk. He'd been running through the trees. The ingot grew roots and sprouted branches and leaves. Then it split into four darts. The darts fell to the desk top and melted into an amorphous mass. He'd been unconscious. He paused. Fuck it. Very slowly the iron formed into an x-frame. Erik's breathing was elevated and he felt a strong urge to flee the room.

"You need to take a break, bub?"

Erik shook his head. The frame melted into a handle. The handle grew tails. The tails grew beads. The flogger swished through the air, again and again. Erik was gripping the metal arms of his chair so hard he'd made finger shaped dents.

"We can stop, Erik."

Erik shook his head again. The flogger melted into a perfect sphere and hung there, completely steady. It must have stayed like that for at least a minute, unmoving, reflecting everything in its gleaming surface. Then it burst into spikes. It pulsed and pulsed, the spikes growing longer each time, extending out to almost touch Erik's face. The spikes exploded into thousands of tiny pieces of shrapnel, which hung like a cloud for a moment, then shrieked round the room in a cyclone of razor sharp metal.

"Erik!" yelled Logan.

The shrapnel slammed together, melted into one blob and dropped onto Logan's desk. The molten metal started burning through the wood and dripping onto the floor in great, hissing gobbets.

Logan stood up. "Erik, stop!"

Erik could feel the steel girders in the walls longing to do his will. He could bring down the building, he could bring down the block. He looked up at Logan, but saw Shaw. He lifted Shaw off the ground and dragged him into a crucifixion pose. What should he do with him? Evisceration, yes. A shining blade lifted into position.

"Marie," bellowed Shaw, but his voice sounded wrong.

The door slammed open behind him. He turned to see a small young woman diving towards him, tearing off her purple gloves. She clamped her fingers to his neck and face. Weakness swept over him. There was a massive crash as Shaw, no, Logan, fell to the ground. Erik slid out of his chair and landed on the floor in a crumpled heap. Everything was dimming and drifting away. He closed his eyes and lay on the floor, gasping for breath, head spinning, feeling sick to his stomach.

Small hands hauled him up onto the chair. Everything was very quiet. After a minute or two he opened his eyes. Logan was sitting behind his desk being fussed over by his re-gloved receptionist, who was apparently called Marie.

"Always have to pick the dangerous ones, don't you," she grumbled.

"It'd be boring otherwise, darlin'."

They noticed Erik was watching.

"Sorry about that, Mr Lehnsherr, but I couldn't have you hurting my sub, now could I?"

"Er, no."

"Neat power by the way."

She levitated half a dozen scraps of metal from the smoking hole in the middle of Logan's desk.

"Don't you worry now, you'll be fine in half an hour or so and your powers will come back soon after. You boys going to be OK now?"

They both nodded and she left the room.

Logan stared at the wreckage of his consulting room.

"You're buying me a new desk, asshole."

Erik was startled into laughter.

"She's your Domme?"

"Yep. Her power sucks the life force outa people. With mutants she gets their powers too."

Erik flexed his metal sense. Just the merest flicker.

"How did a jerk like you get a lovely woman like her?" he said, in lieu of an apology.

Logan smiled. "It's a mystery to me, bub. Well, that was way more successful than I expected."

Erik surveyed the disaster zone which surrounded them.

"Successful?"

"Fuck yes, finally got some genuine emotion out of you. You did some good work there, Erik, well done."

The praise felt surprisingly good.

On his way out he gave Marie a very respectful nod.

When he told Charles about it, he looked as though he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. They were on the sofa, Charles sitting and Erik lying with his head in Charles lap. After he'd told him about the session, Erik drifted off to sleep. He woke with something familiar poking him in the back of the neck. He looked at Charles, who flushed a deep red.

"I'm sorry, Erik, it just happened, I'll - "

"Shut up."

Erik rubbed the back of his head over Charles' erection in slow circles. Charles gasped and shuddered.

"Put your hand down my pants."

Charles slid a trembling hand under the waistband of Erik's sweatpants and put it on his boxer clad cock. Oh, fuck. Erik hadn't even jerked off in so long that he felt himself begun to harden.

"Stroke me, slowly."

Charles obeyed. It felt weird telling him what to do. Charles was his Dom, plus the bossiest little bastard on the planet. Erik lost himself in the delicious sensation of Charles' slow, gentle strokes.

"Inside my boxers."

Charles withdrew his hand, spat copiously in his palm and manoeuvred it inside Erik's underwear. The sensation of Charles' lightly calloused fingers on the hot, taut skin of his cock was electric. Erik arched his hips and moaned. Charles grasped his cock and started working him, very slowly, very gently. It was bliss. He began flicking his thumb over the head on each upstroke. Erik thrust his hips into the movement and dug his fingers into the sofa cushions. He looked straight up into Charles blue eyes. Charles gazed intently back, lips curved in the merest ghost of a smile. He upped his pace just a little and tightened his fingers a fraction.

"Perfect, just like that, don't stop."

Charles didn't stop. It was the slowest, most relaxed hand job Erik had ever had. Charles felt rock hard against the back of his neck. He could feel Charles' arousal in his head too and a whisper of perfectbeautifulminemysubstrongperfectperfect. He was close. He wanted to come. He wanted it to go on forever. He felt his balls tighten. Charles kept the same measured pace. Erik groaned and spilled into his hand. Charles wound himself into Erik's orgasm, extending it, making it deeper, brighter, better. Erik sank into subspace and was lifted into infinity.

When he came to, Charles was sitting with his head thrown back, looking completely wasted. Erik was about to offer to bring him off when he noticed Charles cock had softened and there was a damp patch under his head.

"You took me with you," said Charles, smiling.

They had a bath together - Charles bath was insanely large - soaping each other down and washing each other's hair. They both got hard again, but didn't do anything about it. Erik forgot to blockade the door that night.

They had a flaming row the next morning when Charles let slip that Raven and Hank wanted to come over, but he'd been putting them off.

"You over-protective asshole. Who do you think you are, deciding who I should and shouldn't see? Fucking controlling Dom bastard. Why didn't you just ask? All you had to do was ask, but no, you made up my mind for me you little fucker."

Charles stormed out and Erik didn't see him for the rest of the day, even though he knew he didn't have any lectures or tutorials. Erik sent Emma a mental ping - they didn't bother with the phone - and complained to her for half an hour until she got bored and told him to piss off.

I have to go get my nails done. I can't let your petty dramas impinge on genuinely important matters.

Erik called her a castrating bitch, which made her laugh like a hyena.

Raven and Hank did come over. Erik cooked.

"We can get take-out," said Charles, casually.

Erik was genuinely shocked.

"We are not giving take-out to guests in our home."

Charles shrugged. "Raven's been loads of times before and Hank's visited a fair amount."

"This is the first time they've visited as a couple and I am going to give them a proper meal, you barbarian."

"OK, I'll help."

"You will not."

Charles had the ability to turn the simple act of chopping carrots into a disaster which necessitated a visit to the ER.

"You can do the shopping."

Erik wrote out a very detailed list, but Charles still called him half a dozen times.

Raven and Hank brought wine and flowers and chocolates. Charles welcomed them with a frenzy of hugging. Erik was a bit more circumspect. He wasn't used to being around people and was glad to retire to the kitchen.

He served mushroom tartlets with a truffle sauce, slow roasted brisket with an assortment of vegetables and a Madeira jus, and finished off with cherries jubilee. Everyone oohed and aahed when he set the dessert alight. There was a selection of cheeses to follow, but everyone was too stuffed to even look at them.

Raven and Hank were obviously under strict instructions not to ask Erik how he was doing. Charles and Hank fell into conversation about their studies. Charles had got an extension to his current project due to everything that had happened.

"How's it work with switches then, do you take turns?"

Raven grinned, teeth very white against her blue skin.

"Yeah, though sometimes we're perverts and play Domme and Dom or sub and sub. Sometimes we're even pervier and play non-aligned."

Erik laughed. She joined in. Raven gazed fondly at Hank.

"I wish he could be as proud of his mutation as we are. It took him ages before he was comfortable showing me his feet. We actually had sex a couple of times with him wearing big, fluffy socks. I think his feet are sexy. They look really powerful, like they belong to some sort of hunting beast. And he can run so fast. I'm quick, but he leaves me in the dust. He can use them to climb too, hanging upside down and everything. I just wish he could be mutant and proud."

She looked at Erik.

"I'm going to disobey Charles and ask you how you're doing?"

Erik considered. He hadn't really thought about it, but things were slightly better. Progress was slow, one step forward, ten steps back, but it was happening.

"Not as bad as I could be."

"Am I allowed to hug you?"

He nodded. She enfolded him in her strong arms. Her strength was always surprising. Her scales felt cool and smooth. Charles smiled at him from across the table.

At their next session, Logan asked him to speak to Charles.

"Imagine he's sitting in that chair. Now tell him what you need to tell him."

"This is stupid, I don't know what to say."

"Say anything, doesn't matter what."

Erik pictured Charles. His pale skin, his dark, slightly messy hair. Those blue, blue eyes. His sinful lips. The way he sat or stood like he owned the world, like an emperor.

"I want to thank you, Charles, for claiming me as your sub. Fuck knows, I'm the worst sub in the world, but you bring out my submissiveness, you get me into subspace. Thank you for saving me. Thank you for shooting yourself full of that poisonous shit so you could save me. I'd be dead if it wasn't for you, so thank you for getting there just in time."

Something deep within him warred with the genuine gratitude he felt.

"But . . . but . . . but why couldn't you have got there a few minutes earlier? I could take the whipping, it was agony, but it didn't really matter. It was what happened after that was the worst. I'm supposed to be yours, that shouldn't happen to me, I shouldn't have let it happen to me, you shouldn't have let it happen."

A sob tore out of his throat.

"Fuck, Charles, why couldn't you have got there before he . . . before he . . . he raped me?"

Erik sobbed uncontrollably. He curled up in the chair and wept and wept. It was the first time he'd cried since the rape. When he was done he felt utterly washed out. He sat quiet and still. It didn't make sense. He was blaming Charles. He looked at Logan, who handed him a bunch of tissues. Erik wiped his face and blew his nose.

"I'm . . . angry at Charles. But why? I love him. He's my Dom. He's perfect. He saved me."

Logan raised an eyebrow.

"If he was the perfect Dom he'd have got there in time or never let you get into that situation in the first place."

"That's not fair, he did everything he could, he couldn't have done more."

Logan just looked at him.

"Are you saying I expect too much from him? That I'm putting him up on a pedestal he's bound to fall off?"

"You're the one saying that, Erik."

"It's not logical to be angry at him. Shaw, yes. Even myself, but not him."

"Logic doesn't have much to do with it. Rape survivors often feel a lot of anger. You killed the man who raped you. He's not there for you to be angry at, so you turn your anger on yourself and Charles. Somewhere down deep in the most primitive part of yourself you feel he's your Dom, he should have protected you. You need to forgive him and yourself, not tomorrow, not in a month, maybe not in a year, but you need to forgive sometime if the two of you are going to have a chance."

That evening Erik took Charles in his arms and said:

"You're not perfect."

Charles looked as though he was about to say something funny, then he realised he was serious and stilled in Erik's arms.

"You're not perfect, but you're my Dom and I love you."

They kissed soft and slow and fell asleep together on the sofa watching "When Good Pets Go Bad".


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She crawled through the desert. "Comments," she gasped, "must have comments."

Erik changed his mind about six times before coming out of the bathroom, but in the end he kept it on.

"Emma says Moira's graduation is going to - "

He stopped, eyes riveted to the leather plait around Erik's neck. He got out of the bed, walked over to Erik and touched his fingers to the collar.

"I searched for it. I couldn't find it. I thought you must have thrown it away."

"I've been wearing it all this time, wrapped round my arm. Now it's round my neck, where it belongs."

"Oh, Erik," said Charles and burst into tears.

He cried for ages. Erik laid him on the bed, curled round him and rocked him in his arms until he stopped. By the time he'd cried himself out, his eyes were swollen and red, his face was blotchy and his nose was dripping with snot. He was possibly the least romantic crier Erik had ever seen.

Fuck you.

Erik smiled. "I still love you though, blotchy and snotty and all."

Up yours arsehole.

He clung to Erik like a limpet despite the insults. 

"Gotta let me go, baby, I'm going over to Lilandra's today."

Reluctantly Charles released him and watched as he got dressed, making sure to put Lilandra's bracelet on.

"Yes, that was Dr Howlett's idea wasn't it?"

It was indeed Logan's idea. He was still vetoing a return to work, but he'd suggested it would be good for Erik to get out of the apartment and do something useful. Erik had called Lilandra and asked if she wanted him to come round. She'd been enthusiastic.

Charles gave him a lingering kiss goodbye and a slap on the ass. Erik took the subway to Lilandra's, partly because he liked riding the trains and partly because her workshop was in a shitty neighbourhood - it was all she could afford - and he didn't want to park the BMW there. As he walked from the station, a group of youths paid him more attention than he was comfortable with. He floated his switchblade out of his pocket and casually twirled it in midair. They disappeared down an alley.

Lilandra welcomed him with coffee and pastries. Her workshop was tiny, but well equipped. Erik was fascinated by the machinery and all the different metals. Lilandra showed him her finished pieces and the jewellery she was working on. Intricate bracelets, necklaces and earrings, where feathers morphed into blades and blades into feathers. It was the switchblade ones she wanted his help with. She couldn't quite get them to open smoothly. Erik showed her how to finesse the mechanism.

"This would be so much easier for you, wouldn't it, with your powers I mean?"

Erik shook his head. "I've got the powers alright, what I haven't got is your artistic talent. Tell you what, describe something to me and I'll try to do it."

"OK, that piece of silver there. It's going to be a pendant so it needs a bail, that's the loop the chain goes through. Smaller, smaller, finer, perfect. The top of the pendant is going to be a feather. Why don't you copy that brooch there? Bigger, like it's a crow feather. The barbs need to be more detailed. Make the grooves deeper. Now split them up like its ruffled. Broaden the quill a bit, that's too narrow. Pretty good. OK, the feather needs to melt into a blade. No, that's too sudden, it needs to be really gradual, an almost invisible change, better, better, just about there. As for the blade, you'd know better than me."

Erik made the blade curve slightly on one side, a little more on the other and gave it a nicely bevelled edge.

"That's pretty damn good, Erik. Just one thing, you might want to blunt it so the wearer doesn't cut their tits off."

Erik laughed. It went against his nature to blunt a knife blade, but he did as Lilandra suggested. When he went to give it back to her she wouldn't take it.

"No, you made it, you keep it. Give it to Charles if you think he'd like it."

"I think he'd love it. Thanks."

"No, thank you for all the advice and help."

She saw him to the door and waved as he walked off. His mind and powers were on the pendant in his pocket which is why he didn't notice the kids dashing out of the alley behind him. A wristwatch swung towards him. He ducked and the baseball bat that had been aimed at his head just brushed his hair. He swung round. There were four of them, the oldest probably no more than eighteen.

"Fucking mutie freak, strutting round like you own the place. We're gonna fuck you up fucker."

Erik felt a terrible calmness grip him. He smiled.

All four came at him at once, two with wooden bats, two with pickaxe handles. He didn't know if they'd worked out he was metallokinetic or if they were just lucky, it didn't matter, he was going to destroy them anyway.

He grabbed the wristwatch of the first one to get close and used it to swing his baseball bat into the face of the second kid, who went down like a ton of bricks. One down, three to go. He kicked another in the gut and used the first one's watch to break his wrist and make him punch himself in the balls. Two down, two left. The one he'd kicked came at him again, swinging and the other attacked from behind. He blocked and kicked, knocking the kid off his feet, and swung round to catch the other's axe handle, going with the momentum of the blow to snatch it from his hands and smash it into his jaw. He screamed and fell. The final attacker got to his feet and faced him.

Erik grinned.

The boy dropped his bat and held up his hands.

"I'm sorry, mister, don't hurt me, don't hurt me, I'm sorry."

Erik laughed.

The kid suddenly took off. Erik tore a rusty railing from a dilapidated fence, wrapped it round the boy's neck and dragged him back. He wound three more railings round the throats of his prone attackers. The one boy standing fell to his knees, scrabbling at the metal that was choking him.

"Why don't I show you what this mutie freak can do?" he said pleasantly.

He tightened the metal.

No, Erik, please stop!

Erik stopped. For a moment he thought Charles had forced him to, then he realised he'd simply responded to the edge of command in Charles' voice.

They attacked me. They attacked me just for being a mutant, a mutie freak.

Yes, they're disgusting little shits and they deserve the beating you've given them, but they don't deserve to die.

Don't they? Do you think they'd have let me live? Why don't you have a look inside what passes for their brains and see?

Erik, I'm asking you to stop.

Is that an order?

Silence except for the groaning of his attackers and distant police sirens. Someone must have called the cops.

When you offered me your submission you swore to strive to give me what I want. I want you to stop.

So it is an order?

Do you recognise me as your Dom?

Charles' mental voice had never sounded so imperious.

Yes, I recognise you as my Dom.

As your Dom I am pledged to give you what you need. You need to stop. Stop.

Yes sir.

He felt a massive surge of relief from Charles. He sat on the kerb and waited for the cops. A couple of police cars and a couple of ambulances turned up. Charles stayed with him mentally as they cuffed him with plastic - he wasn't too worried, there was plenty of metal around he could use to cut the zip ties - drove him to the station and locked him in a holding cell, for all the good that would do them. Charles turned up in person surprisingly quickly, trailed by a flock of lawyers in sharp suits. Erik was out in twenty minutes flat.

"How did you get here so quickly?"

"Helicopter," said Charles, casually.

Erik started laughing. Charles joined in. No one pointed out their laughter was a touch overwrought. Erik enjoyed his helicopter ride, Charles plastered to him like an over affectionate octopus; the whirling of the rotors was very soothing.

As soon as the apartment door closed behind them, Erik fell to his knees and pressed his face to Charles thigh.

"Sir, I offer you my submission. I give it freely and without reserve. I will always strive to give you, my Dominant, everything you want."

Charles pressed his hands to Erik's collar. They were trembling.

"Erik, I accept your submission, recognising it as the gift it is, freely given and a privilege rather than my right. I will always strive to give you, my submissive, everything you need."

Charles hauled him to his feet and kissed him, fierce and demanding. They staggered into the bedroom, hands all over each other and fell onto the bed. Charles tugged Erik's zipper open, dragged his boxers down and latched onto his prick like he was starving for it. Erik's hips bucked up helplessly. Charles licked up the underside of his cock, then kissed up one side and down the other. He took Erik's balls into his mouth and tongued them like a couple of plums. He spat out a stray hair, then applied himself to the head, sucking very gently at first, then a little harder.

So good, so obedient, so strong, perfect sub, perfect cock, perfect, perfect cock.

He took Erik into his mouth, while rolling his balls between his fingers, giving them the occasional scrape with his nails. He hollowed his cheeks and drew Erik deeper. Then he did his party trick, he deep-throated him. Erik gazed at Charles, at his flushed cheeks and his tear bright eyes. His throat muscles fluttered around Erik's cock. He slid off completely, then took him all the way down again. He kept on doing it until tears were steaming down his face and Erik was a sweating, desperate mess.

Come for me, Erik.

Erik came. Charles pulled off so Erik's come spurted over his cherry lips and rosy cheeks. His mind was a whirlpool of love and desire, dragging Erik in and down. That night they slept tangled together in mind and body.

The next morning started well, with Erik giving Charles the pendant. It deteriorated rapidly when they rowed about Erik's visit to Gabby's synagogue. In the end Charles gave in because Erik kept repeating "but it was Dr Howlett's idea". The visit wasn't until next week so Charles had time to come around.

Erik worried that he'd have to testify at his attackers' trial. Charles reassured him the kids' lawyers would ensure they'd plead guilty unless they wanted to face the might of the Xavier legal team.

The days passed. Charles went off to his genetics lectures and tutorials. Raven and Hank came over for lunch. Emma dropped by to drink vodka and mock Erik unmercifully. He only had one nightmare. He managed to go three nights in a row without barricading the apartment. He went to his psychiatric appointment and told Logan about the attack.

"Is it bothering you?"

"No, weirdly enough it's made me feel better. I was able to defend myself, fuck, I annihilated them. And Charles . . . Charles was very Dominant. It made me feel safe."

The day of the synagogue visit arrived. Erik dressed smart casual rather than jeans and tee. Charles was a tad anxious, but did his best to hide it when he waved Erik goodbye. Erik had expected to meet up with Gabby and the rabbi. They were there alright, but so were a couple of angry teenage boys and a collection of old ladies; tiny, fragile old ladies and tall, elegant old ladies and warm, motherly old ladies. He was greeted by a chorus of "so tall" and "so handsome".

"Sorry," muttered Gabby, "I couldn't stop them from turning up."

"It's fine," said Erik, more amused than anything.

He did a walk around of all the buildings and fences, pointing out vulnerabilities, trailed by teenagers and the elderly. Next he went inside and had a look at their security system and door and window locks, which were woeful. He gave them a list of things they could easily do themselves and recommended a good locksmith. Finally he promised to scout around for a new alarm system. With his contacts he could probably get something decent for a reasonable price. The rabbi blessed him, the old ladies lavished him with praise and the teenagers shook his hand. Gabby rolled her eyes.

All kinds of snacks had been laid on - sufganiyot, challah, borekas, latkes, rugelach, kibbeh, pickles and gravlax - homemade of course. They sat around a big table and ate and chatted. They told Erik all about the groups and activities based around the synagogue, their charitable works and upcoming social events. He was pretty sure they were angling for him to attend.

"And have you claimed a sub yet, my dear?" asked one of the elegant ladies.

"I'm a claimed sub myself," answered Erik, pulling down his shirt collar to show the plait around his neck.

"Hah, Leah, I told you he was a sub," crowed one of the tiny ladies. "What's the use of having eyes in your head if you don't use them to look? I hope your Dom is good to you, young man?"

Erik smiled. "He's very good to me, ma'am. Would you like to see some pictures?"

A chorus of yeses. They crowded round while Erik proudly showed them pictures of Charles on his phone, being very careful to avoid the x-rated ones.

"Ah, he's just a baby."

"Such a beautiful boy."

"He's got a glint in his eye, that one."

Erik laughed. "Yes, he can be a handful."

"Is he Jewish?"

Erik shook his head.

"But a mensch?"

"Definitely a mensch."

"Your mama, your papa, they must be so proud."

"They've passed, alehem hashalom."

Soft repetitions of "alehem hashalom".

When he got up to go, they pressed bulging Tupperware containers on him and escorted him to the gate in a kind of royal progress. The tiny lady, who had spotted he was a sub, put her hand on a brown rose bush. Bright green leaves unfurled, flower buds plumped up and opened white, fragrant petals. She snapped the stems and handed the bouquet to Erik.

"From one mutant, to another. Give them to that lovely Dom of yours."

Erik sat in the car and cried for fifteen minutes straight.

Charles spotted something was up the minute he got home.

"You feel happy, but sad and sad, but happy."

"Come and have a look."

Soft whisperings inside his head. Charles' eyes brightened with tears.

It made you think of your parents.

Yes. Could you help me recall my memories of them? I've forgotten so much.

It would be an honour.

They spent the rest of the afternoon and the evening going through Erik's memories of Edie and Jacob Lehnsherr. Some were happy. Some were sad. Others were just, well, ordinary, but precious nonetheless. Some were fresh and close to the surface. Others were faded and buried deep. Charles was in a very soft, slightly melancholy mood as they got ready for bed.

"I wish they could have known you, they'd have loved you."

Charles brightened a little and kissed him on the nose.

"I never asked you, how's Sharon doing after losing Marko? I know he was a shit, but he was still her Dom."

Charles smiled. It was not a happy smile.

"She doesn't even seem to care. Last time I saw her the only thing she talked about was the scandal, oh, and she angled for me to carry on supporting her in the style to which she's become accustomed."

No wonder Charles was feeling melancholy after feeling Erik's fond memories of his parents. With a mother like that it was doubtful he had any of his own. Erik kissed the back of his neck, where his dark hair twisted into wispy curls, and projected love as hard as he could. He drifted off to sleep with his arms wrapped round Charles.

He dreamt that the tiny lady from the synagogue was Charles' real mother and Sharon had stolen him. The tiny lady touched their wooden furniture and it sent out branches and twigs and sprouted cherry blossom. Charles was pleased, but insisted it was oak furniture so shouldn't be covered in frothy pink blooms.

You're dreaming too loud, shut up.

If Erik had any more dreams that night, he didn't remember them.


	14. Chapter 14

"How's your sex life?"

Erik choked on his cookie. Logan had baked them. Baking helped him decompress.

"I know you've done it a least a couple of times. I can smell it on you. Any problems? Doing anything you don't want to do? Not doing anything you do want to do?"

"Couldn't you be a little more subtle?"

"Nah, subtle's not my style."

"Are you sure you're a qualified psychiatrist?"

Logan gestured at the credentials on the wall behind his desk.

"Anyone with a decent colour printer could fake those."

Logan snorted. Erik had never heard a bear snort, but he was convinced it would sound like that.

"You're the survivor of a violent rape, Erik, it would be strange if you weren't having problems."

They'd got to the point where Logan could say shit like that without Erik trying to disarticulate his adamantium skeleton.

Erik thought about it. He and Charles had jerked each other off a couple of times and there'd been that sublime blow-job. Nothing penetrative though. He imagined Charles on his hands and knees and pictured himself kneeling behind him, lining his cock up with Charles' pink pucker. He pushed in. Charles screamed, not in pleasure, but in pain. Erik didn't stop, he just kept fucking Charles harder and harder. Charles was bleeding, he was bound to the frame and he was bleeding and begging for Shaw to stop.

"Erik!"

Erik opened his eyes. He'd dragged Logan's claws out of his knuckles, melted his nameplate and the metal shelving which held a collection of weighty tomes was slumping in an ominous way.

"Breathe Erik, breath and go to your safe place."

Erik breathed and pictured himself on a beach with Charles. The sky was very blue. The sea was turquoise. The sand was fine and white. Palm trees swayed in a gentle breeze. Charles was lying on a purple towel under a huge umbrella. He wore a tiny pair of Speedos, the same colour as his eyes. He had to shelter from the sun or he'd burn. His nose and shoulders were peeling a little from yesterday's UV exposure. Erik was carefully rubbing factor 50 into his pale, freckled skin. His skin felt like satin under Erik's palms.

Logan's claws retracted, the shelves straightened up and the nameplate reformed itself from the puddle on the desktop.

"Two "T's" asshole."

Erik put the second "T" on, then added a third for spite.

"Based on your reaction, something's bothering you."

"Wow, your powers of observation are amazing."

"And your powers of sarcasm are weak. Talk to me, Erik."

He hesitated, struggling to find words he could say out loud.

"When we had penetrative sex, Charles always bottomed."

He looked at Logan challengingly to see if he had any opinions about that.

"Hey, no need to tell me the one being penetrated can be the boss. Domme remember? Not that if she fancies a bit of pegging I'm not up for it."

Erik involuntarily melted the nameplate again.

"TMI?"

"Oh, dear god in heaven, yes."

"Sorry, keep going."

"After . . . after what happened to me, the thought of doing that to Charles is . . . it's repulsive, but at the same time, I want to do it. Except . . . "

Logan waited patiently as Erik marshalled his thoughts.

"I want him to . . . to . . . to do it to me. I've never wanted that before, I've experienced it, but I've never enjoyed it, yet now I want it. You'd think it would be last thing I'd want after what happened, but I can't stop thinking about it. It doesn't make sense."

"You sure it doesn't make sense?"

Erik absentmindedly formed his ingot into three spheres - he brought it to all his sessions - and set them orbiting his head. He found concentrating on the metal allowed him to think difficult, distressing thoughts.

"Charles is my Dom. When it happened, it was like something was done to me and taken away from him. I want . . . I want to give it back to him, I want him to give it back to me. I want to wipe out the memories, the physical memory of it, and replace it with him."

"You can't wipe out the memories, Erik," said Logan, gently.

"Except Charles could. I wouldn't want him to and he wouldn't want to. I am who I am now because of what happened to me. Erase those memories and I wouldn't be me, or I'd be a different me. But I want to rewrite them, overwrite . . . him . . . with Charles. Make something ugly into something beautiful."

"You'd need to be real careful. You've been making steady progress. If you got triggered it could set you back, plus, with your powers, it could be dangerous."

Erik waved a dismissive hand.

"Charles could shut me down in an instant."

"If you decide to do this, you have to take it slow and you have to be prepared to stop and wait and maybe give up altogether. I know you, Erik, you have a tendency to push on through the pain when you should back off."

"But I want it, I want it so much it hurts, yet at the same time I'm fucking terrified."

"Sounds to me like you're not ready. It would be strange if you weren't apprehensive, but terror? That's a sign you shouldn't ignore. Think about it Erik, discuss it with Charles, but don't rush into anything."

"I'm not sure I can wait much longer."

Logan gave him a long look.

"If you're not concerned about your own mental health, give Charles' a thought. How do you think he'd feel if you reacted badly and were triggered and were set back weeks, maybe months?"

"He'd . . . he'd blame himself."

"Damn right he would. It's a Dom's job to give his sub what he needs, but sometimes that sub's confused about his needs and had better be real sure he wants what he's asking for. Think on it, Erik. Don't push yourself or Charles into something neither of you are ready for. OK?"

"OK."

Erik was very affectionate with Charles that evening and they ended up lying on the sofa, giving each other lazy, sloppy hand-jobs.

The next day Erik met up with Raven at her gym for her first Krav Maga lesson. Raven fought nude, which was a bit disconcerting, seeing his Dom's sister's private parts, but Erik soon forgot her nakedness in the pleasure of teaching. He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed passing on his skills. Raven was a startlingly quick learner. She was stronger and faster than him and only had to be shown something once to pick it up straight away. Her background in other martial arts meant she was familiar with a lot of the moves. By the end of the session he was breathing hard and having to put all his skill and experience into defending himself and defeating her. He finally managed to get her pinned and she thumped the mat in surrender. When they got up, Erik realised they'd collected a small audience, who gave them a round of applause. Raven bowed and curtsied like the show-off she was.

"I've been thinking of running some self-defense classes for the congregation of Gabby's synagogue. Would you like to come along and help? You'd probably only need another half dozen sessions before you'd be ready."

Raven's cobalt skin flushed midnight blue with pleasure.

"I'd love that. Can't say I'm getting much fulfilment from my job at the coffee shop."

"Do you have any idea what you'd like to do long term?"

She shook her head.

"Nope, I've never been academic, not like Charles. I've always thought I'd like to do something physical, but I've never been sure what."

"On the evidence of today's session, you'd make a great martial arts instructor."

Raven looked thoughtful.

"It's funny you'd say that because some of my trainers - don't get me wrong, they were all highly skilled - weren't great teachers. With people like me they'd keep it too basic, slowing me down. With other students they'd go too fast, or lose interest in the less talented pupils."

"Well, you can see how you like teaching my old ladies."

Raven smirked.

"Your old ladies, huh? Careful, Charles will get jealous."

When he relayed their conversation to Charles he laughed and said:

"Now I'm worried I'm going to have to fight a crowd of vicious Jewish ladies to uphold the honour of my submissive."

"Some of them are pretty fierce."

"And what's with turning my sister into some sort of Amazonian warrior woman?"

"She's already a warrior woman, I'm just making her a better one."

"Better watch out or she'll soon be kicking your arse."

"No need to tell me that, she'll outclass me depressingly quickly."

Charles wrapped his arms round Erik and hugged him, hard.

"Oh, my poor baby. It must be hard having all the young folk overtake you, what with you being so old and knackered and worn out."

That earned him a tickling which turned into an extended make-out session.

Erik returned to work with Logan's OK. The Worthingtons seemed happy to have him back. Even Worthington Jr. was relatively civil. Warren was delighted to see him and behaved a bit like an overexcited puppy. He insisted on telling Erik how crap all the other security staff were. Seeing him reminded Erik of their kiss and that he hadn't told Charles about it.

He told him about it that evening.

Charles was very understanding.

"I think I owe him a debt of gratitude for inspiring you to fight for me." He paused and when he spoke again his voice was weighted with command. "However, from now on I expect you to keep a respectable distance from him and you will never kiss anyone again without my permission, permission which will never be granted."

Erik felt the pressure of his Dominance bearing down, a reassuring weight, pushing him to the edge of subspace.

"Yes, sir," he said and knelt at Charles' feet.

He knelt at the side of the sofa while they watched a nature documentary, Charles running his fingers through his hair. Charles told him to get up when it ended, saying his knees were aching in sympathy.

Charles was attending a dinner party at the Frosts'. Senator Kelly, who had been mooting a mutant registration act, would be there. Charles wanted to talk to him. He was prepared to offer financial support to Kelly's re-election campaign if he'd drop it.

"You don't have to come, Erik."

"I want to."

It was true, he wanted to be at Charles side to offer all the support he could. Plus, he was rabidly opposed to any kind of registration.

Charles decided Erik would be dressed all in black. A black suit, shot through with silk threads, and a black shirt in a heavy silk that clung and draped. Charles wore charcoal, with a pale mauve shirt and a purple tie. Erik obediently stood a pace behind Charles and didn't speak unless given permission. Charles spoke to various important people and gradually worked his way towards Kelly, who was standing with Senator Morales. Morales introduced them. Charles started talking about registration, how it would be a retrograde step in terms of human rights and would damage mutant/human relations, that the best way to protect everyone was by educating humans about mutants and teaching mutants to control their powers and use them for the public good.

Kelly sneered.

"I hardly think you're qualified to talk about protecting people, considering you couldn't even protect your own sub."

Erik felt Charles' power surge up in an unstoppable wave. Everyone froze, the guests, the staff, Morales, Kelly, everyone except Erik, Charles and Emma, who was standing on the other side of the room, a glittering living statue in diamond form.

"If anyone doubts my ability to protect my sub, I hope this will set their minds at rest. Indeed, my sub is perfectly able to protect himself. Erik, a small demonstration please."

Erik reached out. The crystal pendants of the chandelier were attached by metal loops. Erik detached them and sent them dancing round the room, scattering light across frozen faces and wood panelled walls. He brought them back together and gently reattached them. Everyone unfroze. Charles calmly continued talking about the negative effects of a mutant registration act. Morales looked a little shaken, but soon rallied. Kelly looked like he was going to throw up. Around the room various conversations restarted.

I fear I've just confirmed all Kelly's fears about mutants.

Fuck him, he's a prejudiced asshole.

Erik's right. It wouldn't have mattered what you'd said, Kelly's fears overrule all logic.

That was Emma.

I know, I just wish I hadn't lost my temper.

Kelly's enough to make a saint spit.

The only way to reason with that asshole is with a knife.

Now, now, darling, no need to be so bloodthirsty.

Talking of bloodthirsty, you freeze Moira again and I'll show you bloodthirsty.

Sorry Emma, sorry Moira.

It's OK Charles, it was actually quite an interesting sensation.

You're a wonderfully forgiving woman, Domme MacTaggert.

She is, but her sub isn't.

That made them all laugh.

They made it through dinner. Neither of them were very hungry, but Erik enjoyed the handfeeding. They slipped away shortly afterwards. Erik knelt on the floor in the back of the car, face pressed against Charles' knees.

When they got home. Charles led him to the bedroom and slowly undressed him, kissing every inch of skin as it was revealed, paying particular attention to the thin, silvery scars on his back.

"Charles, I want you to fuck me."

"Oh, darling, believe me, I want that more than anything."

"No, I mean, I want you to fuck me."

Charles eyes widened.

"We've never done that before. Are you sure you're ready?"

Erik clambered onto the bed and got on his hands and knees.

"No, I want to see your face darling."

"I want it like this. You can get in my mind, what does it matter?"

Charles drew himself up.

"It's what I want. Fetch the big mirror from the hallway."

Erik frowned. "It's too heavy to move."

Charles looked at him like he was an idiot. Oh, yes. Erik levitated the mirror into the room and settled it at the head of the bed, looping some metal round the frame to keep it in place. It wouldn't be very romantic if it crashed down on them while they were fucking.

Charles stripped off, brisk and efficient.

"Lube please, darling."

Erik floated the lube into Charles' hand by its metal cap. Charles climbed up on the bed behind him. Erik felt a twinge of fear.

"If you want me to stop, tell me, it doesn't matter how far we've got, just one word and I'll stop. In fact, get me my feather-blade pendant."

Erik drifted it over to him. Charles clasped it round his neck.

"If you want me to stop and you can't bring yourself to speak, just squeeze this. You can choke me if need be."

Never, never!

It's alright, darling, I quite enjoy a bit a breathplay.

Charles leant forward and planted a kiss on Erik's buttock. He kissed his way all over Erik's ass and the backs of his thighs. He kissed and licked and nibbled Erik's balls. Erik moaned and his cock began to harden. Charles parted his cheeks. Erik stiffened.

Do you want me to stop?

No, no, keep going.

Charles' cheeks brushed his cheeks. He felt Charles' lips on his hole, kissing him soft and slow. He trembled. He'd never expected this, no one had ever done this to him.

So you're a virgin when it comes to rimming?

He felt a swell of triumph from Charles. He kept on kissing Erik's hole, kisses getting wetter and sloppier, tongue flicking out and tasting him. Charles flickered his tongue against Erik's hole, tickling him. Than he pointed it and pressed the tip inside. Erik gasped and twitched.

Is this alright?

Fuck, it's better than alright, it's fucking amazing.

Charles pressed his tongue in as far as it would go, then worked it round the rim of Erik's asshole, making the most disgusting slurping noises. He jabbed his tongue in and out, hands keeping Erik's buttocks parted. Erik was fully erect now. Charles withdrew and knelt up. Erik could see his face in the mirror. Very slowly and deliberately, Charles licked his lips. He sent Erik a taste of his own anal musk, rich and rank.

Charles opened the lube and covered one finger. He tapped at Erik's hole, as if he was seeking entrance.

Please, Charles, please.

Are you sure?

Fuck yes!

Charles put just the tip of his finger inside and rotated it. Erik moaned and pushed back, burying his finger in his ass.

What a naughty, impatient boy you are.

Charles pulled his finger out.

Erik sobbed.

Will you be good?

Yes, Charles, yes, sir.

Very, very slowly he slid his finger back in. He kept it quite still for what seemed to Erik like hours. Then he began to slide it in and out, slowly, so slowly. Erik could hear a faint squelching. He looked at Charles in the mirror, his face completely focused and intent. His eyes met Erik's. He smiled dazzlingly bright. He slipped his finger out. Erik made an incoherent noise of protest. Charles patted him on the ass. He slipped two fingers in. He let Erik get used to the extra stretch, then started moving them in and out, adding a twisting motion and picking up speed.

God, you should see the way your arse swallows my fingers.

Erik got an image of Charles' broad fingers sliding into his tight hole. Charles withdrew again, lubed up a third finger and very carefully inserted them. Again he paused to let Erik get used to the slight burn. It eased off and he reached inside, searching for something. He found it. Erik jerked forwards and yelled.

Too much?

No, more, more!

Charles laughed. He tapped and massaged Erik's prostate until Erik was so hard he couldn't do anything but make desperate sobbing noises. Then he scissored and curled his fingers, getting him ready to take his cock. He took his fingers out and pressed his face between Erik's buttocks to push his tongue into his lubed asshole and curl it around the rim. He withdrew and positioned his cock.

We can stop now. You can fuck me. I can suck you off. We can stop completely if you want.

No, no, give me your cock, give it to me!

Charles pushed the tip in. It felt big even after all the fingering. He went quite still, waiting for Erik to relax. Gradually Erik untensed. Charles pushed in another inch. He stroked Erik's back and sides. He leant forward to kiss down his spine. The metal of the pendant dragged over Erik's skin. He slid another inch in and reached up to gently tug Erik's hair. Another inch and he drew his nails across the back of Erik's neck. One more and he dug his thumbs into the dimples above Erik's ass. Finally he pushed all the way in, balls pressing against Erik's, then stopped.

Erik felt so full. Charles had a nice, thick cock. Erik rotated his hips a bit, getting used to the feeling of being so stretched and stuffed. Charles choked. Good to know Erik wasn't the only one affected. There was some pain, but not much and Erik rather liked it.

I won't move until you tell me to. 

Just give me another minute.

Charles nodded. Their eyes met in the mirror. A drop of sweat fell from Charles' nose onto Erik's back. Erik could feel his muscles trembling as Charles held still. A swell of love washed over him, cleansing and warming.

Move.

Charles let out a long, shaking breath. He pulled out until just his head was inside. Oh, God, the drag of his cock on Erik's ass walls. Fuck. Charles pressed back in, slow and sure. Erik groaned. Sweat collected in the dips of his back. Sweat dripped from his face onto the bedclothes. Charles started fucking him, slowly, almost lazily.

Faster!

No, sweetheart, I'm giving you what you need and this is what you need.

Perhaps he was right, perhaps this was what he needed, this slow, luxurious, languorous fucking. Charles looked magnificent in the mirror, face and chest flushed with red, rivulets of sweat easing down his body, nipples as dark as his mouth. He threw his head back, exposing his throat, and arched his back into a perfect curve. He pumped into Erik, measured and graceful, strong hands holding Erik's hips steady. He started rotating his hips as he thrust. Erik made a sort of screaming, growling noise.

He collapsed face forward into the pillows, ass still in the air. Charles kept going. It seemed like he meant to keep going forever. His cock slid in and out of Erik's ass, pushing and dragging, squelching obscenely. Slow, so slow, his strokes, giving Erik exactly what he needed, an ass full of cock. Erik reached for his painfully hard cock.

No, you'll come from my cock in your arse or not at all.

Erik withdrew his hand. Charles projected:

beautifulpowerfulbravestrongstubbornmineminemine

Erik was almost there, he was almost there.

comeformecomecomecome

Erik came. He felt Charles spurt hot and wet in his ass. He was falling. He was rising. The stars circled him, he was spinning into the heart of them, dropping into the black hole at the centre of the galaxy and the galaxy was Charles.

Erik came round to find Charles had finished cleaning him up and was snuggling down beside him.

"You were under a long time darling. I was starting to worry. Are you alright?"

Erik stretched. His asshole ached, but in a good way.

"I'm better than alright, I'm . . . I'm, no, I can't explain, come in."

He felt a vast presence brush his mind. He opened everything to Charles. He showed him how he felt, renewed, remade and whole. Charles cried a little. So did Erik. As they settled down to sleep he said:

"I think I could get on board with this whole bottoming thing. There's just one aspect - hah, asspect \- I don't like."

Charles raised an eyebrow.

"The way the come slides out of your ass."

Charles laughed until he choked.


	15. Chapter 15

Erik is tied to the frame. Shaw is fucking him and fucking him. He reaches for every scrap of metal for miles around. He'll turn Shaw into a fucking pincushion. And then his powers are gone, no, not gone, but disconnected, still there, but unreachable. He tears an arm free and elbows Shaw in the face. Suddenly he's frozen. He struggles, desperate, terrified. A warm, golden cloud envelopes him.

You're dreaming, Erik, this is a dream. Shaw is dead. You killed him. Emma and I held him and you killed him. This is a dream. Wake up.

Erik opened his eyes. Charles was kneeling up on the bed next to him, one hand on Erik's cheek. He had a split eyebrow and the beginnings of a black eye.

"Did . . . did I do that?"

"You were thrashing around in your sleep, darling, it was just an accident."

Erik was mortified. He insisted on cleaning and dressing the wound.

"It's not a wound, it's just a scratch. I've had worse play-fighting with Raven. It's my own fault for fucking you. You haven't had a nightmare in weeks, then I fuck you and this."

"Bullshit. For all you know I might have had the nightmare anyway. Stop talking crap."

Charles giggled. "You might want to work on your bedside manner, Dr Lehnsherr."

"Cheeky little brat," grumbled Erik, settling down beside him.

They lay there, both unable to get back to sleep. Usually, Charles would offer to put him to sleep and, usually, Erik would accept. Tonight Charles seemed pensive.

"I'm not sure if I should share this with you. If it would help or not. I don't think it will make things worse. I don't want to have any secrets from you, Erik. Can I . . . can I show you something?"

"Anything."

"Close your eyes."

Charles is twelve years old. He and Raven are in Dr Braddock's office. They were a bit scared of her when they first met her. She's a very pretty Domme, but very stern. After a couple of visits they realised she was very kind, too. Dr Braddock can make psychic blades out of thin air. She shows them at their third appointment, throwing balls of paper in the air and chopping them in half with glowing purple swords. She can make a mind blade as well. She's been using it to separate Charles and Raven.

Charles has been in Raven's head ever since they first met. She's the reason he found out he could influence people. He made mother adopt her without even realising he was doing it. Lately they've become too entangled. Raven would eat something and Charles would taste it. He'd skin his knee and she'd feel it. She'd speak and the words would come out of Charles' mouth. Raven got scared. Everyone, even Kurt, got scared, so they had to see Dr Braddock.

Dr Braddock has finished separating them. The last two appointments have just been checkups. She hugs them goodbye because they won't be seeing her again. Raven makes Charles promise not to come into her head anymore. Charles promises because he loves Raven and he doesn't want her to be afraid of him. It's very lonely just being in his own head. Dr Braddock says this kind of thing happens to a lot of telepaths, especially ones as powerful as Charles. She says he shouldn't cut himself off from everyone, but Charles tries to anyway. It makes his head ache and he gets nosebleeds and he feels as though no one is really real, but it's worth it to make sure it never happens again.

When they get back to the house Raven wants to go swimming. Charles feels a bit sick so he goes to his room.

"You're no fun anymore," Raven shouts after him.

Charles lies on his bed. He wonders if he feels so odd not just because he's shielding so hard, but because he's going to align soon. Everybody thinks he's going to align as a sub. When Charles fantasises about sex, and, being a telepath, he's got lots of material to work with, he dreams of big, fat cocks in his mouth and arse. He doesn't dream of submitting though. In his fantasies he's in charge, he tells his partner what to do, how to move and how to please him. That doesn't seem very submissive.

He slides a hand into his underwear. The door creaks open and he quickly drags his hand out. He wishes mother and Kurt would let him have a lock on his door. It's his step-brother, Cain. His heart sinks.

"Hello subby."

"Fuck off, Cain."

Cain leers. "I'd rather fuck you Charles."

Charles sneers. "I'd rather fuck a dead cat."

Cain has taken to cornering Charles when no one is around. He gropes Charles' arse and shoves his hands down Charles' pants and makes Charles put his hands on his ugly, purple cock.

"Don't be like that, my little subby sub sub. You know you like it, you know you want it."

Charles goes to get up off the bed. Cain pushes him back down and looms over him. He's a Dom, three years older than Charles and a head taller. He's in the army cadets. They do physical training and unarmed combat. Cain's more muscular than plenty of grown men. He straddles Charles on the bed.

"I bet you're gagging for it, aren't you Charlie boy? Look at you, with your pretty blue eyes and your cock-sucking mouth, you're the perfect fuck toy."

"Get off me," yells Charles, trying, unsuccessfully, to push him off.

Cain grabs him and flips him over. He drags Charles pants and underwear down. Charles feels his lust spike as he gazes at Charles' bare arse. Charles thrashes like a fish on a hook. Cain sits on him, fumbling at his zipper, getting his cock out. He lies down on top of Charles and rubs his cock over Charles' buttocks.

"Oh, fuck, you're gorgeous, no fucking use for anything else, but made for this."

Charles can feel Cain's cock hardening. He panics.

"Get off, get off, get off!"

"Oh, I'm going to get off alright," hisses Cain, sliding his erect cock between Charles' cheeks.

Fuck not getting into anyone's head. Charles lashes out mentally. Whether it's because he's been shielding so much or because he's so scared, nothing happens. Cain's scrabbling at Charles' arse, trying to part his cheeks.

"No, no, stop, stop you bastard, stop!"

"Scream all you like, we're the only ones on this floor. I'm going to fuck you my little sub and you're going to love it."

Charles lashes out again. He can feel Cain's desire, his urge to dominate, to fuck Charles into the mattress and give the pushy little shit what he deserves. He tries to make him stop, to make him get up and go, but his thoughts slide off Cain's burning intent. Cain jams his thumb into Charles hole. Charles screams and tries to buck Cain off.

"I knew you'd love it. Now take it, take my cock you dirty little sub whore."

Cain tries to push his cock into Charles. Charles is too tight and there's no lube. He screams again and Cain pushes his face into the pillow. Cain spits in his hand and swipes it over the head of his cock. He pushes again. He breaches Charles. He pushes in. Charles feels like he's being torn apart. The pain tears through him, burning, unleashing something in his head.

He screams. Out loud and in Cain's head. He screams and he screams and he screams. Cain rolls off him and falls to the floor with a thud. He lies on his back on the floor. His mouth is open, drooling. A little blood trickles from his nose. His eyes are wide and staring.

It takes Dr Braddock and a whole team of psionic neurologists and psychologists to put Cain back together again. Even when they're done, he's not the same, there's something missing. He never touches Charles again. He never even looks at him. It's like there's a blank space in his head when it comes to Charles. He joins the army at sixteen. He doesn't come home to visit. Charles never sees him again.

Erik opened his eyes. They were wet with tears. He wanted to kill Cain.

"I think I've done more than enough to Cain."

"I disagree."

"It's all over and done with. I just didn't want to hide anything from you anymore."

Erik planted kisses all over Charles face. Charles smiled at him, open and loving.

"I can't imagine what it's like for you, being in people's heads all the time. Isn't it overwhelming?"

"Sometimes. Mostly it's just how things are, how I am, who I am, it's what I'm used to. I could show you if you like?"

Erik nodded. He felt Charles' mind filter into every crevice of his own head. He felt his own mind expand over tens, no, hundreds of miles. He was part of the crowded chaos of the city, millions of minds, all singing their own tunes. He was the fisherman, riding out the storm, far out at sea. He was the farmer, rubbing earth between his fingers, thinking about the forecast rain. He was the child, hiding in the wardrobe, hoping his dad wouldn't find him. He was the teenager, touching herself and coming for the first time. He was the lovers, so bound up in each other, Domme and sub, that the rest of the world ceased to exist. He was the old woman quietly easing out of this world. He was the newborn, taking her first breath of cold air and howling. So much pain. So much love. So much everything.

Charles' mind withdrew like the tide. Erik gasped for breath. His heart was racing. His thoughts were a tumultuous sea. Charles calmed the waves.

"How can you stand it? How can you bear it?"

"It's all I've ever known. That's why the suppressants were so devastating. I felt like I was dying, like the world was dying."

Erik massaged Charles' temples with his thumbs. He was multitudes. He was Erik's.

At their next appointment, Erik told Logan about Charles fucking him (not the details) and the nightmare afterwards. Logan sighed and gave him the thousand yard stare.

"I figure you got off lightly, bub. Things could have been a lot worse. You were lucky. But just because you were lucky this time doesn't mean you'll always be. You can still be triggered. Bear that in mind for your own sake and Charles'."

Erik nodded.

"I'm getting sick and tired of looking at your ugly face every five minutes. I'm thinking we can cut the sessions to once every two weeks?"

Erik thought about it. He'd noticed they'd struggled to find things to talk about recently.

"Yeah, OK, every two weeks would be fine."

"Sort it out with Marie. I'd like to ask a favour, Erik. I've got this survivors group, been through all kinds of abuse and trauma. Some of them were saying they liked the idea of learning self-defense. I was wondering if you could show 'em the basics."

Erik's classes at the synagogue were going well. He'd pretty much handed over to Raven. The ladies and the teenage boys loved her. She'd started wearing a leotard, not so much because of the sensibilities of the ladies, but because she'd been driving the teenage boys to distraction. The ladies called her "Saphira", Sapphire.

"Sure, why not? Give me a few dates and I'll sort something out."

Erik turned up at the community centre a week later. He asked at reception for the "Coral" group. They had a code in case any abusers tried to track them down. The receptionist pointed him in the right direction. He walked into a large, slightly down at heel room. There were inspirational posters on the walls, mixed with health and safety notices and pleas for visitors not to leave their dirty cups in the sink. There was a table at the back with coffee and doughnuts. Exercise mats were stacked up around the walls. Chairs had been arranged in a circle. Some people were sitting, some were getting drinks. Everyone wore sticky labels with their names on. A tall woman, labelled "Taneisha", who gave off Domme vibes, welcomed Erik. He got himself a coffee and sat down with everybody else.

"Hi everybody, this is Erik. Logan recommended him to us. He's going to show us some self-defense moves."

A sotto voce chorus of "Hi Erik."

His audience were mainly women and, at a guess, mainly subs. There were two guys, one of whom had a Dom feel about him. Erik was the only one wearing a collar.

He stood up and gave a brief speech about his background in the military and close protection. He told them that the best self-defense they could practice was to not get into trouble in the first place. They should risk assess strangers and locations and remain aware of their surroundings at all times. Talking your way out of trouble was better than fighting. Running was better than fighting. Attracting help was better than fighting. If you had to fight you had to go all out, no mercy, no holding back. He was going to show them some modified Krav Maga moves. Chances were that anyone attacking them was unlikely to be trained, so being familiar with a few basic moves would give them an advantage.

He got them to move the chairs out of the way and lay down a couple of layers of mats. He asked for a volunteer. Nobody moved or spoke for a long moment, then Taneisha stepped up.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you. Just come at me like you want to kill me."

Nervous laughter all round. Taneisha hurled herself at him and Erik used her own momentum to drop her to the mat. He went to help her up and she shied away. He looked round the group, at their body language, at their expressions. They were terrified of him. This wasn't going to work.

"OK, everybody just sit down on the mats for a second."

Everybody flopped down.

"You're all looking at me thinking, "this guy's ex-military, he's a killer, he's dangerous," and that's all true." He took a deep breath. "I'm also a rape survivor."

There was a collective intake of breath.

"About eight months ago I was violently raped. The reason Dr Howlett recommended me to you is that I'm his patient. I know you're all scared because I'm scared. I'm scared every day. Just after it happened I barricaded myself into our apartment, I wouldn't come out. But I'm getting a bit less scared every day. Some of you are probably thinking you don't want to learn how to fight, you don't want to be a violent person, that's what rapists and abusers are, they're the violent ones, not you. This is not, I repeat not, about doing violence to others, this is about protecting yourselves from violence."

He stood up.

"Now, do I have any volunteers?"

Every single one of them jumped up.

The rest of the session went really well. He'd demonstrate a move with a volunteer, then get them to practice on each other, and walk round correcting and encouraging them. At the end he picked someone to attack. A tiny Latina girl named Angel, with beautiful dragonfly tattoos on her shoulders, was by far the most talented. He dove at her and she dropped him like a pro, to raucous cheers from the rest. They all arranged to meet at the same time, same place, next week.

As he shrugged into his jacket, Angel approached him. She tapped the "Mutant and Proud" badge that Raven had pinned to his lapel.

"You one of us, brother?"

He levitated the metal framed chairs into a neat stack, gaining applause and a comment from Taneisha along the lines of "saves me having to do it".

Angel flexed her shoulders. What he'd thought were tattoos sprang into life. Huge, iridescent wings fluttered from her shoulders.

"I can fly and spit acid too, but I'm on court mandated suppressants, so most I can do now is fan myself."

"How come you're on suppressants?"

She smiled, cold and deadly. "Took justice into my own hands."

He echoed her smile. "I killed him."

She high-fived him. "Mutant and proud, bro."

"Mutant and proud, sister."

When he got home he told Charles all about it, partly in words, partly by letting him look. Charles gazed at him with shining eyes.

"I could feel you; cool and professional to start, then trepidation, then determination and finally bone-deep satisfaction. I don't know what I did to deserve a sub as wonderful as you, but I'm very glad I did it."

"I'm nothing special, you're the special one."

Charles smile was wide and brilliant.

"Oh, Erik, you idiot."

He proceeded to show Erik just how wonderful he thought he was by bouncing up and down on his prick for twenty minutes.

* * *

"When's your birthday?"

Charles shrugged. "Months ago."

"Months ago? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Raven wanted to do a thing, but I wasn't really in the mood, what with everything that was going on. Besides, a twentieth isn't really much of a big deal."

Erik squared his shoulders in determination.

"Right, I'm going to throw you a birthday party and you've got to promise not to look because it's going to be a surprise."

Charles giggled. "How can it be a surprise when you've just told me about it?"

"The details will be a surprise. Now, promise not to look."

Charles rolled his eyes. "I promise."

Erik conferred with Raven and Emma. It was Emma who came up with the idea.

"He'll love it. You know how obsessed he is with that programme. I'll invite Logan, at least that way we'll have something edible."

Erik frowned. "Isn't it kind of unprofessional for him to see me away from his office?"

"It's just a one off, Erik, he's not becoming your new BFF."

Erik contacted the others and got everything together.

When Charles came home from visiting his mother one Saturday afternoon, and, God, he'd need cheering up after that, Erik intercepted him at the door and insisted he'd put on a blindfold.

"Oo, kinky, darling."

Erik manoeuvred him into the room, then whipped off the blindfold.

A huge banner, saying "Great Xavier Bake Off", was draped across the kitchen. Baking equipment and ingredients covered the work surfaces and the kitchen island. Raven, in the form of Sue Perkins, Hank, Logan, Marie, Alex, Armando, Sean, Gabby, Emma and Moira stood there, wearing white aprons.

"You're so obsessed with that "Great British Bake Off" programme, we thought you might like your own bake off. Happy Birthday, Charles."

For a moment Charles looked like he was going to burst into tears, then he attack hugged Erik and dragged everyone into a massive group hug. Erik was pleased to see that Logan looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"Lilandra couldn't come, so she sent you this."

Charles tore into the wrapping. It was an elegant cake knife in the form of a feather.

"It's beautiful. Now if only I had some cake to cut."

Everyone laughed. Erik settled Charles on the sofa, which had been turned round to face the kitchen.

"You're the judge and I'm timekeeper and referee. The others will be working in pairs. Contestants, you have two hours to produce birthday cupcakes suitable for a high society Dom. Ready, steady, bake!"

Chaos ensued. Raven kept changing from Sue Perkins to Mel Giedroyc to Paul Hollywood to Mary Berry. At one point she was a terrifying hybrid between Mary and Paul. Sean flour bombed Alex and Armando. Emma swapped Hank and Raven's sugar for salt, causing them to have to start again from scratch. Raven retaliated by shoving their salty cake mix into Emma's face. Emma turned to diamond, so it slid right off. Erik had to intervene to stop a full-on food fight.

Matters weren't helped by the amount of alcohol everyone was drinking. Everyone but Logan was getting decidedly drunk. Logan had put away as much as everyone else put together and seemed entirely unaffected. Charles kept dipping his fingers in mixtures and scraping out bowls and generally getting in the way. Alex decided he could use his powers to crisp his meringues, set fire to them and almost triggered the sprinkler system. A few big, fat drops splattered them, then Erik turned off the taps with his powers. Armando impressed everyone by getting his cakes out without using oven gloves, his hands turning hard and stoney. Sean thought singing to his cakes would encourage them to rise and had to be gagged by his partner, Gabby. Moira threatened to arrest Raven if she didn't stop stealing their ingredients. They had to share ovens so there was a lot of argy bargy and Marie said she'd suck the life out of the lot of them if they didn't stop getting in her way.

"Contestants, you have one minute, I repeat, one minute."

Charles was bouncing up and down, fired with excitement and champagne. Everyone was frantically arranging cupcakes on stands.

"Contestants, your time is up."

Charles seated himself at the dining room table, which had been draped in purple.

"Raven and Hank, please bring up your cupcakes."

They'd made blueberry and white chocolate chip cupcakes, decorated with blue icing roses.

Charles tested and tasted and prodded.

"Good flavour, but under baked I'm afraid."

"Coz that bitch fucking sabotaged us," muttered Raven.

Emma smirked.

Alex and Armando had made dark chocolate and chilli cupcakes, with bright red and green spirals on top to replace the burnt meringues. Charles took one bite and started choking.

"Too much chilli," he gasped, downing a glass of champagne.

"Damn, Armando, I said you were adding too much. You kept adapting, that's why you couldn't taste it," complained Alex.

Emma and Moira had baked dark, milk and white chocolate cupcakes, with a white chocolate glaze and spun sugar work.

"OMG, these are lovely," moaned Charles, trying to stuff two into his mouth at once.

Gabby and Sean were up next. Theirs hadn't risen at all. Sean had piped tons of rainbow coloured frosting on top to give them some height.

Charles took a mouthful.

"Are these hash cupcakes by any chance?"

"Godammit, Sean, you said you were adding herbs," yelled Gabby, smacking him round the head.

"Marijuana is a herb," protested Sean.

Logan and Marie were last. They'd done apple and ginger cupcakes, with tiny frosting apples on top.

Charles took a bite. He froze. He made a noise Erik recognised from more erotic circumstances.

"Oh, I can't even, my god, these are, they're, oh, oh, oh!"

"Well, I think we know who's won," sighed Emma.

Erik presented Logan and Marie with a metal trophy in the shape of a cupcake. He quickly tweaked it to add a little apple on top. Marie looked modest, Logan looked smug. Everyone hung around drinking and tasting each other's cupcakes before gradually drifting off.

"Thank you," said Charles, kissing Erik. "Best birthday ever."

That night they made love sitting in the old wingback chair. Charles sat in Erik's lap, facing him, impaling himself on Erik's cock with agonising slowness. Sweat gilded his body. His mouth tasted of champagne and cupcakes. Erik called metal to him, formed it into clamps and fastened them to Charles' red, red nipples. Charles moaned and started circling his hips and clenching. Erik drew filaments of metal from the clamps, scrolled them down Charles' torso and curled them back to his buttocks. He dug them into the firm pale flesh, drawing a little blood and making Charles cry out.

Charles upped his pace, thigh muscles working. Erik put his hand on Charles' cock and squeezed as he tightened the nipple clamps. He pumped his lovely, satin smooth, steel hard cock with short, brisk strokes. Pre-come dribbled over his fingers. Charles was fucking himself on Erik with complete abandon. Erik groaned. He wouldn't last long. He tightened the clamps, twisted them, then pulled them off.

Charles screamed out loud and in Erik's head. He was deluged with Charles' orgasm, all golden light and silver shivers. As Charles' come coated his hands, Erik coated Charles' insides and soared into subspace.

He came to with Charles still sitting in his lap, his softened cock still jammed up Charles' ass. Charles' arms were wrapped round him and his head was resting on Erik's shoulder. He lifted his head, smiled and gave Erik a chaste kiss.

"Where did the nipple clamps come from?"

"Made 'em from a baking tray."

Charles laughed. "Talk about inappropriate use of baking equipment. Fetch me a cupcake, minion."

"Yes, milord."

Erik floated one over on a silver server. He disengaged from Charles - come trickled out of his hole and down his thighs - and carried him off to bed munching on a cupcake.


	16. Chapter 16

They'd been together for two years. Two years! Erik could hardly believe it. Sometimes it seemed he'd known Charles forever, sometimes it seemed like five minutes.

They'd celebrated Charles' twenty-first (Erik refused to celebrate his birthdays and one of their worst rows had been when Charles sprang a surprise party on him and he'd walked straight out). Charles' birthday had been a raucous affair. It had started off sedately enough at a very smart bar, then degenerated into a crawl round the city's strip joints, most of which Angel seemed to have worked in. She'd joined their little group and had got on like a house on fire with Emma and Charles, the two people she had least in common with. The boys were awkward around her and Moira regarded her with outright suspicion, muttering about convicted felons.

Charles had, of course, jumped up on the stage and started stripping off his clothes. Angel, Emma and Raven had joined him. Erik hadn't been drinking, he'd felt at least one of their party should stay stone cold sober. Unfortunately Charles was broadcasting his inebriation to Erik, so he ended up on stage, down to his boxers, doing a pornographic bump and grind with a tighty whitey clad Charles. They made several hundred bucks.

"You know if Xavier Biotech ever goes tits up, I could make an excellent living as a stripper," mused Charles

Next came their two year anniversary. They had a romantic dinner in an insanely expensive restaurant.

"It's got three Michelin stars, Erik."

"More like three black holes, the way it sucks money in."

Afterwards they fucked like monkeys all night long.

"Not monkeys, apes. Bonobos actually, they're the hyper-sexualised ones."

Erik jammed four fingers into Charles' loose, lubed, come-full ass. That shut him up.

Charles had finished his degree and was ensconced in the Xavier Biotech labs, working on his PhD. He was steering the company away from bio-weapons, but was meeting some resistance. He liked to bring Erik along to board meetings. Erik couldn't come in of course, so he sat outside, glowering at board members as they turned up, tugging on their watches and twitching their cufflinks. One elderly, white-haired, distinguished Dom had a very intimate piercing.

"I always thought Mr Bodnant had a twinkle in his eye," commented Charles.

Erik had left the employ of the Worthingtons and had set up his own security consultancy. It was going well, he employed a dozen people and the way things were going he'd have to take on more.

He'd moved his furniture into Charles' apartment almost a year ago. It had been swallowed whole by the cavernous interior. Mama's willow tree had pride of place next to an early Qing yellow porcelain vase.

He was mooching around, wondering what to cook for dinner and inclining towards take-out, when the doorbell rang. He opened the door. A tall, strong featured, emerald-green haired girl stood there, looking fiercely determined.

"Charles isn't in."

For a moment she looked confused, then she said:

"I've come for you."

"For me?"

So help him, if she started telling him about the saving power of the Lord it would go ill with her. She took a deep breath.

"I'm your daughter."

Erik stared open-mouthed at the emerald haired girl.

"I'm Lorna Dane. Susanna Dane's my mom. She told me you were dead, then, a year ago, she decided I was old enough to know the truth, that you were still alive and had no idea I existed." She grimaced. "That was an interesting conversation."

Susanna Dane. He could see something of her mother in her. He could also see a resemblance to him, her green eyes and her tall, rangy build. What the fuck did you do when your long lost daughter turned up out of the blue?

"Come in."

She walked inside. She seemed a bit taken aback by the size of the apartment.

"Have a seat."

She perched uneasily on the edge of a sofa.

"Would you like a cup if tea?"

God, Charles was rubbing off on him.

"Yes please," she said, stiffly.

Because Charles really had rubbed off on him, he brewed loose leaf Cylon in a teapot and got out proper china teacups and saucers. He set everything down on the coffee table in front of her and sat down in the chair opposite.

"I . . . is there anything you'd like to ask me? Anything you'd like to tell me?"

She nodded.

"Mom said the two if you had a thing when you were teenagers. Is that right?"

Erik's mother had just been diagnosed with cancer and Susanna had been struggling with extremely traditionalist parents. They'd fallen into each other's arms, two subs at odds with the world.

"Yes, yes, that's right. We were both sixteen. You must be seventeen."

She nodded again.

"It must have been very hard for her. Her parents were quite . . . quite . . ."

He paused. Those were her grandparents he was talking about.

"Quite huge assholes," she finished.

He laughed.

"They were quite conservative, yes."

"They wanted her to have an abortion, but she wouldn't. Then they wanted her to have me adopted, but she wouldn't. They cut her off and she had to get by on welfare and working three shitty jobs."

"I'm sorry, if I'd known I'd have helped."

She shrugged.

"Mom said, when she finally told me the truth, that the two of you didn't really have anything in common. You were both miserable, so you took a bit of comfort from each other for a few months and that was it."

Erik wished he could contradict her, but couldn't.

"That's pretty much the size of it."

"Grandpa and grandma came round after a while. They wanted her to dye my hair, but no way was she doing that. They told all their friends mom was a hippy and it was her way of showing support for the green movement."

Erik snorted.

"Yeah, I know. They kind of went off me when my metallokinesis manifested."

Erik felt a swell of something he couldn't identify.

"You're metallokinetic?"

"Yeah."

She sheepishly levitated some coins from her pocket. Erik took hold of them with his powers and sent them flying around the room, changing shape as they went, before reforming them into coins and dropping them into her hand. Her eyes widened.

"Wow, you have great control."

"Practice, that's all. So . . . so what do you want to be when you grow up?"

Had he really said that? Yes. Yes he had. Judging from her grin, Lorna thought it was a dumb question too.

"I'm interested in engineering, particularly aeronautical engineering. I graduate high school next year. I'm looking at Caltech, MIT or maybe Carnegie Mellon."

Erik was impressed.

"You'll need good grades for any of them."

"I've got good grades," she said, head held high.

Fuck, she looked like him. Erik poured tea and messed around with milk and sugar. She had two lumps.

"Does your mother know you're here?"

"Yeah, she didn't really want me to come, but she didn't try to stop me. Not that she'd have been able to."

Yep, his kid alright.

"You said she told you about me a year ago. Why did you decide to come find me now?"

"I dunno. Part of it's coz I'll be going to college soon and I wanted to settle this before I went. Plus, I've got this friend who's adopted, he'd give anything to meet his birth parents and I started thinking what if you died or something and I'd never met you? Also, no one on mom's side is a mutant, unless you count a tad of hyper-mobility, so none of them, even mom, really understand what it's like. When she told me we had the exact same mutation, well, I had to come."

"I'm glad you did."

She looked doubtful. "Are you?"

Was he? He looked at her; tall, skinny, forthright, smart, metallokinetic and with that amazing hair.

"Yes, yes I am."

A shy smile curved her lips. That was all her mother and nothing of him.

"So, er, what do you do?"

She cringed slightly at her own question. It wasn't as bad as his "what do you want to be when you grow up", but it wasn't far off. He told her about his background in the military - Mutant Special Forces - and working as a bodyguard and then setting up his own security services company.

"We offer all sorts of services; close protection - that's bodyguards - advice on securing homes and vehicles, vetting of personal and household staff, training for family members in defensive driving and armed and unarmed combat. Whatever they need."

She seemed fascinated,

"And this all came from being in the army?"

"Yep."

"How come you choose the army in the first place? Mom said you were kind of a rebel."

He laughed.

"It was a choice of the army or prison. I got into a lot of trouble when my mother died. They put me into foster care. Looking back I feel sorry for my carers, having this angry, Jewish, mutant, troubled-sub teenager dumped on them. They actually tried pretty hard, but I was determined to get into trouble; fights, drinking, not drugs for some reason, just a little grass. My big thing was car theft. When you're metallokinetic stealing a car is child's play. I got away with it for while because I could always outrun the cops by giving the car a boost with my powers. Then one of the idiots I ran with got arrested and gave me up to cut a deal. Judge gave me a choice of army or prison. I was close enough to eighteen that it would have been an adult facility. She said I could put my mutation to good use serving my country, so that's what I did."

Lorna looked somewhat admiring.

"Wow, you make my life sound really boring."

Erik shook his head.

"Trust me, I put a brave face on it, but a lot of the time I was terrified. If I had my time again I'd go to college. It was what I wanted to do before mama passed. Funnily enough I was interested in engineering, structural engineering though. I wanted to build bridges and be the guy the architects come to when they've designed a building but have no idea how to build it."

Lorna smiled.

"I want to make things fly. Ever since mom first took me on a plane and I thought "How the heck does this huge metal thing get up and stay up in the air?" I've wanted to design aircraft."

"I guess it's not surprising we'd be interested in jobs that involve large quantities of metal. That's one of the things I like about weapons, the metal."

He held out his wrist to show her the bracelet with the feather charm.

"Press it in the middle."

She did so, fingers brushing his wrist and giving him a strange hollow feeling in his stomach. The tiny, blunt blade swished out.

"That's so cool."

"A friend of mine, Lilandra, made it for me. I helped her work out the mechanism. She helped me make a pendant for Charles."

"Charles?"

"Yeah, my Dom."

She looked puzzled.

"You have a Dom?"

"Yes. You must have noticed my collar?"

"Well, yes, but since you were with mom I kinda expected you to have a Domme."

She stressed the final "me" on Domme.

"Your mother was kind of an aberration, no, that sounds bad, what I mean is that usually I'm attracted to men. I hope you don't have a problem with that?"

She shook her head vigorously.

"Oh, God, no, I'm not like grandma and grandpa."

They were silent for a while, Lorna shyly studying him and Erik more openly observing her.

"Now I know where I get my eyes from."

He smiled.

"Your grandmother had the same eyes. She was tiny though, we get our height from my father."

"What were they like?"

He drew a deep breath.

"Jacob and Edie Lehnsherr. What were they like? My father died when I was ten. He was a quiet man, rather serious most of the time. He was stern, but fair. He worked very hard, very long hours to try to give us a better life than he had known. My parents owned a dry-cleaning and alterations shop, mama did the sewing. One day Papa was putting the clothes on the metal hangers when they started sliding about on their own. He called for my mother. "Edie, look at the hangers, the shop is haunted." That's when mama noticed me, sitting in the corner, waving my hands from side the side and the hangers following my every movement."

Lorna laughed. Erik smiled.

"I said he was a serious man, but Edie could make him laugh. She had a real sense of the ridiculous. She'd relay the stupid things the customers said. "This fellow says to me, "If I leave my jacket here, can you fix it?" I say to him, "Well, if you don't leave it here, I definitely can't!""

Lorna snorted.

"They were a quite traditional Dom/sub pair. He was the boss, but he was a gentle man and always very respectful to her. When he died, something in her died. It took years for her to come back to herself. Finally she started going out dancing again. She'd sing in the house like she used to. All the neighbourhood Jewish ladies would come round to play cards and she'd fleece them like little lambs. I used to get a lot of shit for being the wrong kind of sub, too tall, too aggressive, too argumentative. She'd say, "You are what you are and someday someone will see just how wonderful that is.""

He sighed.

"She'd just got her life back when the cancer took her. I wish they could have met Charles, especially Edie."

He looked at Lorna.

"I wish they could have met you."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Thank you."

"No, thank you for taking the time and trouble to seek me out."

She got up in a rush.

"I'd . . . I'd better be going."

"Oh, OK."

They stood there awkwardly, staring at each other with matching green eyes.

"Could I - "

"Would you - "

They spoke together.

"You first," Erik insisted.

"Could I have your number? You know, so maybe I could call or something?"

"Of course."

He tapped it into her phone. He didn't know what to put for a name. "Dad" seemed presumptuous, so he just put "Erik". He saw her to the door. There was another awkward moment where they both said goodbye, then just stood there. Lorna suddenly surged forward and hugged him. He hugged her back, face full of curly emerald-green hair. Then she disengaged and almost sprinted off down the corridor.

Can I come home now?

Did you listen in to all that?

No, I felt I should give you some privacy. Your emotions spiked, so I took a look and there she was, your daughter! I withdrew after that and left the two of you alone.

Thank you. Please come home.

I'm parked outside, darling.

As soon as Charles got in the door he drew Erik into a hug and kissed him soundly. He kicked off his shoes, pulled Erik over to the sofa, sat him down and wrapped himself around him.

"Tell me nothing, tell me everything, your choice."

Erik felt too worn out to talk.

Take a look.

Velvet wings caressed his thoughts. Erik closed his eyes and luxuriated in the feeling of Charles drifting through his head. When he opened his eyes Charles was looking decidedly weepy.

"She was rather wonderful," said Charles.

"She was, wasn't she?"

"How do you feel?"

"You tell me."

"Terrifíed, humbled, exhilarated and, I don't know quite how to describe this, an incredibly strong feeling of "family"."

"Sounds about right."

Charles smiled.

"You want to see her again."

Did he? Oh, fuck yes he did.

"I want her to meet you."

Charles raised his eyebrows.

"Don't spring me on her too soon. Let her get used to you first."

"That's if she contacts me, she might change her mind," said Erik, gloomily.

Charles shook his head.

"I don't think so. I couldn't help picking up a trace of her feelings. She really liked you."

Erik felt his face split in an idiotic grin.

"If she likes me, she'll love you."

This did not turn out to be the case.


	17. Chapter 17

Susanna Dane called him the next day.

"Hi, Erik, Susanna here."

"Hi, Susanna, how are you?"

"No need to bother with small talk."

He remembered that about her, she always got straight to the point, one of the things he'd liked about her.

"Are you OK with Lorna contacting you?"

"Yes, more than OK."

"I didn't want her to because I wasn't sure what kind of reception she'd get. I didn't want her to be disappointed and rejected."

"Well, I can't guarantee never to disappoint her, but I'd never reject her."

Silence.

"She really likes you, you know. She loved hearing about Edie and Jacob and she loves that you've got the same mutation. She wants to see you again."

"I want to see her again."

"OK, just be careful with her Erik, she comes across as strong, but she's still just a teenager."

"I'll be careful. If you need any help supporting her my circumstances are real good at the moment so I'd be happy to - "

She cut him off.

"No, I don't want your money, just for you to be kind to my little girl."

"I will be," he promised.

"You'd better be. Bye."

"Bye."

He and Lorna met up half a dozen times over the next couple of months. Mostly they met at the apartment, but twice they met in the neighbourhood coffee shop. The coffee was mediocre but the pastries were good. Erik told her everything about her grandparents he could remember. Charles helped him refresh his memories. He told her what her mother had been like when she'd been Lorna's age; shy, but with a wicked sense of humour fighting to get out. He told her about his early years and his time in the army. He concentrated on the funny stuff, the ridiculous army rules and regulations, and the adventurous things he'd done. He told her about stabilising the building and lifting the bridge, just like he'd told Charles on their first date. He stayed well away from the darker stuff.

She told him that Susanna was doing well:

"She's in insurance. It sounds boring as hell to me, but she likes it and it pays well and there's healthcare and shit."

She told him about school, her friends and the kids she hated.

"Jubilee, her real name's Jubilation Lee, has such cool powers. She can send these pyrotechnic blasts from her hands. One time, in chemistry, her Bunsen burner wasn't working, so she thought she'd use a blast to heat up the test tube. She set the whole bench on fire. The sprinklers went off. We were all soaked and it was a freezing day and we had to stand outside, wet and shivering, while the firefighters put the blaze out."

Erik laughed and the coffee spoons jangled in sympathy.

"Bobby Drake, we call him Iceman, can freeze the water vapour in the air and even turn himself into ice. Last summer he froze the fountain and pool out front of the main building and we all ice-skated in ninety degree heat. He and St. John hate each other. Pyro, that's St. John, can control fire, so it's kind of fitting they loathe each other. My theory is that they're secretly crushing on each other and it's UST that's generating all that hate."

Erik told her about some of his friends' powers. He didn't tell her about Charles though. He wanted him to come as a delightful surprise.

"I haven't googled you, you know. I want to hear it all directly from you," she said.

"Good. Ah, how about Charles joins us here next week?"

"Yeah, I'd like that. I can't wait to see what kind of Dom could get a guy as powerful as you to submit."

"You're in for a surprise."

"I like surprises."

They hugged and kissed each other's cheeks, a recent addition to their farewell ritual that made Erik warm inside.

Charles was a bit nervous about meeting Lorna, but was determined to put his best foot forward. Next week rolled around and they sat sipping their coffees and waiting for him. He was coming straight from the labs and was late as usual. Erik heard the door open. He didn't turn round because he could tell it was Charles from his watch and his feather-blade pendant and the cloud of sorryI'mlatesorrysorrysorry he was projecting.

"Lorna, how lovely to finally meet you."

He stood there, hand extended, grinning dazzlingly. Lorna was going to love him.

Lorna stared and didn't take his hand.

"You're Erik's Dom?"

"Yes, Charles Xavier, delighted to meet you," he said, hand still extended.

"But, you're, like, my age," said Lorna, looking horrified.

Charles dropped his hand. His smile slipped a little.

"Ah, not quite, I'm twenty-one."

"Oh, wow, well, that's a huge difference, isn't it?" The sarcasm was obvious.

"Lorna," said Erik, sharply.

"I'm sorry, it's just you're really not what I was expecting. I thought you'd be an older guy, very Dominant, not some cute kid."

"Well, looks can be deceptive," said Charles, lightly. "I'll just go and get a nice cup of tea."

As soon as he turned away she muttered, "Jeez, Dad, cradle snatching or what."

"Charles is quite a lot younger than me, but there's no need for such a dramatic reaction."

"I'm sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all, "but it's kind of embarrassing, your Dad's Dom looking the same age as you. Was he even legal when you got together?"

"Yes, he most certainly was," gritted out Erik.

Charles returned to the table clutching his Earl Grey in front of him like a shield. He sat down.

"So, Lorna, has Erik told you about my mutation?"

Lorna shook her head, looking like a sulky child.

I'm a telepath, he said in both their heads.

Lorna shoved her chair back and leapt to her feet. The coffee spoons levitated from the table.

"Stay out of my head!" she shouted.

"I'm very sorry, of course I'll stay out of your head if you want me to. Please sit down Lorna, I won't contact you telepathically again."

She sat down and the spoons dropped to the table top. There was a long silence. Erik was fuming. Charles looked calm, but Erik could feel his unease roiling under the surface.

"So, Lorna, Erik tells me you want to be an aeronautical engineer?"

There followed half an hour of painful conversation with Charles becoming more manically bright by the minute and Lorna giving monosyllabic answers to his questions.

"Goodness me, is that the time? I must rush back to the lab. Recombinant DNA waits for no man. Lovely to meet you, Lorna, we must do this again sometime."

Erik knew for a fact he was going back to the apartment.

Lorna's lips twitched in the barest hint of a fake smile.

Charles kissed Erik on the forehead, much to her evident disapproval.

Don't be too angry with her. That's an order.

Yes, sir.

He strode off, projecting calm, control, patience at Erik. Erik was going to need it.

"What the fuck was that?"

"Yeah, what the fuck was that? Way to spring your child bride on me, Dad."

"He is not my fucking child bride, he is a consenting adult and, talking of adults, you behaved like a complete brat."

"Well, excuse me for expecting a male version of mom and getting a cutesy boy-toy instead."

Erik stood.

"I can't stand to talk to you anymore. I'm going."

He turned to go. His bracelet tugged him back. Lorna looked upset.

"Can't we at least hug goodbye since I guess . . . I guess we won't be seeing each other anymore?"

"What?"

There were tears in her eyes

"Oh, Lorna, baby."

He grabbed her in a bear hug.

"Look, I'm really pissed off with you, like major league pissed off, but that doesn't mean I don't want to see you again. I'd be heartbroken if I never saw you again."

A tiny smile dawned.

"You would?"

He nodded. She sat down again and he sat beside her so he could put an arm round her shoulders.

"I guess when I saw him I was so shocked because he was the complete opposite of what I'd been expecting, a full-on Dom versus this jail-bait pretty boy."

Erik sighed.

"Charles is probably the most full-on Dom you will ever meet. He hides it well, but he could bring half the country to its knees with a thought. He's an omega-class telepath, a bona fide genius and heads a multi-billion dollar biotech company. You shouldn't judge by appearances, Lorna. I bet you've got a lot of shit for your green hair, so you should know better."

"I do know better," she said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"It's not me you need to apologise to."

"Will you say sorry to Charles for me?"

He kissed her vivid, curly hair.

"Of course I will."

When he got home Charles welcomed him with a double scotch and a triple kiss. They curled up on the sofa together.

"Well, I can't help wishing you'd told her a bit more about me or that she had googled you."

"Yeah, no more surprises from me ever."

"Except ones like the "Great Xavier Bake Off"."

"OK, only baking and confectionary related surprises from now on."

"You did really well with her, you know. You didn't lose your temper, well, not much, you were firm but fair and you reassured her. Well done."

As usual, praise from his Dom made him glow.

That night Charles fucked him. He lay on his back, legs suspended in the air with ribbons of metal, Charles pressing into him, gentle but inexorable. He snaked more metal down Charles' torso and sent a tendril plunging into his own ass and twining round Charles' cock and another up Charles' ass. The sensation of Charles' metal covered prick sliding in and out of his hole was divine. He thickened the tendril that had breached Charles and started fucking him to the same rhythm as he was fucking Erik. He matched Charles' pace as he thrust harder and faster, then pressed the metal against his prostate and set it vibrating. Charles came with a cry. Erik untwined the metal from his cock and coiled it round his own, stroking and squeezing until he shot his load across their bellies.

It took a couple of meetings for Lorna and Erik to get back on the same footing, but soon she was sharing stories of childish metal mishaps and he was describing Sean and Alex's antics. A month later he and Lorna and Charles had dinner at a cheap and cheerful Italian restaurant. Susanna had been going to join them, but cancelled at the last moment due to something coming up at work. It wasn't the most scintillating dinner Erik had ever attended, as Lorna was on her best behaviour and Charles was cheerful, but rather quiet. Erik had to maintain three quarters of the conversation, but at least nobody insulted anyone else.

Erik had been meeting Lorna for getting on for five months, when he got a call from Susanna.

"I've been offered a six month job swap in Toronto. It will be great for my career."

"Congratulations, I'm pleased for you."

"There's just one problem."

She hesitated.

"Lorna's at a crucial point in her schooling. I can't drag her away from her studies and off to Canada. My parents have offered to come live in my house while I'm away and keep an eye on her, but they drive her crazy. Always going on about her hair, how pretty she'd be if she'd just dye it. Wanting her to dress like some Victorian maiden. Disapproving of her friends. Telling her not to use her mutation in public."

She hesitated again.

"I know this is a really huge ask, but could she stay with you? It would be a great chance to properly get to know each other, after all, you never know someone until you live with them. She suggested it to me, but I strictly forbade her to ask you. She doesn't know I'm asking you, so if you say no, she'll be none the wiser. If you did take her and it became unbearable, you could always call my parents."

Erik's heart leapt at the thought of Lorna living with him for six months. It fell when he remembered it was "them" not "him".

"I need to talk to Charles."

"Of course, thank you for even considering it."

When he told him that evening, Charles said nothing. He sat in silence looking very thoughtful. Then he put his Dom face on.

"Tell me what you want, Erik."

"Can't you look?"

"No, I want you to say it out loud."

"I want her to come and stay."

"That's settled then."

"Seriously?"

"I can feel how important this is to you. You never got a chance to be with her when she was growing up. Soon she'll be off to college. This opportunity may never come again. I know how important family is to you and she's the only family you've got. What kind of Dom would I be if I said no?"

Erik caught him up in his arms, levitated the two of them off the ground and twirled them both around in the air. It was a good thing the apartment had a double height ceiling.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Charles laughed and kissed him and laughed even more when Erik smacked his own head on a light fitment.

And so, one summer morning, Susanna Dane drove Lorna over to the apartment with three huge suitcases. Erik levitated them inside using their metal frames. Charles made them tea and served cookies, baked by Erik. There was polite conversation and then Susanna was hugging and kissing Lorna and crying a bit and promising to phone and FaceTime. And Lorna was hugging and kissing her back and pretending not to cry. They all stood on the sidewalk, waving goodbye as Susanna's car disappeared into the distance. Lorna looked very bleak.

She cheered up a bit when she saw how big her bedroom was and that she had an absolutely enormous state-of-the-art TV plus games console and her bathroom had a rainwater shower, a Japanese style bath with a waterfall feature and a sauna and steam room. She unpacked and Erik showed her where everything was and how the appliances worked. They went out to lunch at a smart sushi place because Lorna had mentioned that she loved sushi.

She spent the afternoon and early evening doing her homework and chatting with Erik. Charles stayed in his study to give them some space. After dinner - pea and mint soup with sour dough croutons, courtesy of Erik - she caught up with her friends on Snapchat and Instagram, while Erik and Charles watched a documentary on bioluminescence.

"I think I'll go to bed now."

"OK, sweetheart, sleep well. Let me know if you need anything."

She kissed Erik goodnight and gave Charles an awkward sort of wave. He smiled and waved back.

"Well, that wasn't too bad."

Charles gave him a look.

"No, but I think it's a bit early to declare the six months a rousing success."

"Shut up you," said Erik, tickling him.

Charles shrieked and giggled and squirmed. Suddenly he went quite still and quiet.

"Shit, I've just realised, we're going to have to be much quieter when we fuck."

"What do you mean "we"? You're the vocal one."

Charles gave him an incredulous look.

"I must have been hallucinating you sobbing and begging and screaming my name then."

Erik caught him up in his arms, carried him to the bedroom, dumped him on the bed and they proceeded to have the quietest sex ever. When they were done and Erik had surfaced from subspace and cleaned them up, he went to check on Lorna. Light shone from under her bedroom door. He knocked gently.

"Come in."

"Can't sleep, bubeleh?"

"What did you call me?"

"Bubeleh, it means darling, honey, sweetheart in Yiddish."

She smiled. "You speak Yiddish?"

"Only a few words. Mama and Papa spoke it fluently. So, having trouble sleeping?"

"Yeah, strange bed and all that. Plus being away from mom."

He sat on the edge of the bed.

"I could sing, well, hum you a lullaby."

She looked throughly unimpressed.

"Dad, I'm seventeen, not seven."

"Sorry."

He went to get up, but she grabbed a fold of his tee-shirt.

"You could give it a try," she said, suddenly shy.

"I don't know the words, so I'll have to hum it. This is something my mama used to sing to me when I couldn't sleep."

He began humming the simple, slightly melancholy tune and stroking her thick, shining hair, like raw, emerald silk under his fingers. After a couple of repetitions he saw she'd dropped off. He put out the light and crept out of the room and climbed into bed with an equally dead-to-the-world Charles. His heart felt so full he could hardly bear it. The two most important people in his life, asleep under one roof.

The first few days went really well. Erik and Lorna got on just fine. She and Charles were very polite to each other. One Sunday morning they were sitting at the breakfast table when Lorna said:

"Fetch me a juice, Erik."

Erik was halfway across the kitchen before he realised what he was doing.

Stop.

"Please don't order Erik about like that, Lorna. He's your father and he's my sub," said Charles, voice ringing with command.

Lorna flounced out of the kitchen, muttering what sounded like "fuck you" and slammed her bedroom door behind her.

"Oh dear, I know it's perfectly natural for her, as a young Domme, to practice her Dominance on a close family member, but I just can't abide anyone ordering you around."

Erik smiled. "Anyone but you."

Charles grinned. "From what I remember of bring a teenager, she'll be in her room for hours, so I hereby order you to have kitchen sex with me."

Erik laughed and hoisted him up onto the counter. They kissed, but not for too long as they needed to be quick. Erik pulled off Charles' pyjama bottoms and his own sweatpants.

"Lube?"

"The ancient Greeks used olive oil."

Erik smirked. "Well, if it's good enough for the ancient Greeks, it's good enough for me."

He summoned the bottle by its metal cap, coated two fingers with oil and pushed them into Charles. He worked them in and out, twisting and scissoring. He went to add another finger, but Charles stopped him.

No, your cock, now.

Erik slid his cock into Charles' tight hole. Charles shared the delicious burn from being not quite stretched enough. They fucked without finesse, just Erik pounding into him mercilessly, the sound of flesh on flesh and their harsh breathing, Charles clenching tight, tighter, tightest and the smell of pre-come and olive oil. They came together, Erik muffling his shout by biting into Charles' neck, Charles choking off his cry with the back of his hand. They clung together, regaining their breath. Charles hopped off the counter and they pulled their pants on. There was a choked gasp from the doorway. They looked up. Lorna stood there, eyes wide, mouth open, utter horror painted across her face. She fled, bedroom door slamming yet again. She might not have caught them at it, but she knew exactly what they'd been doing.

Charles bit his lip. "I think no more kitchen sex from now on."

They laughed helplessly but quietly, so Lorna wouldn't hear. When she eventually emerged from her room, she said nothing and everyone was ultra normal. Everything was OK for a couple of days. One night they were watching a TV programme on the wealth gap, while Lorna tapped away on her tablet. Charles was talking about a study he'd read which found a big disparity between the richest and the poorest went hand in hand with all kinds of social ills.

"That's a bit rich - hah - coming from you," scoffed Lorna.

"Lorna," began Erik.

No, let me.

"What do you mean?"

"Look at this place, your car, the designer clothes hanging in the wardrobe, that watch. You're obscenely wealthy."

"I was born into wealth, I can no more help that than someone born into poverty."

"Yeah, but it's what you do with it that counts."

"Exactly, and that's why I support and am actively involved in any number of charitable foundations and trusts."

She snorted. "So that's how you salve your conscience?"

"I don't need to salve my conscience."

"You could give it all away."

"No, I couldn't. A great deal of my money is tied up in Xavier Biotech, a company that employs hundreds of people and produces pharmaceuticals and gene therapies which benefit millions."

"What about the bio-weapons division? What about that then?"

"I am making strenuous efforts to close the bio-weapons division down. I don't have complete control of the company and, in addition, I can't risk its financial stability."

"Financial stability? There's still enough cash for you to live like a king."

"Yes, there is, but I don't indulge in lavish displays of excess. I inherited this watch from my father and a lot of those designer clothes are years old. I own this building and several apartments are made available at vastly reduced cost to key workers who couldn't otherwise afford to live where they work. I can't really argue with you about the car, it is an extravagance. But what about your tablet? It's top of the range. What about the skincare range you use? It's expensive. Would you like me to take the TV and games console out of your bedroom? For the most part I use my money wisely and for the benefit of others, I won't feel guilty for treating myself and my loved ones every now and then."

Lorna muttered and stared fiercely at her iPad. She ignored Charles for the rest of the evening and was extra affectionate to Erik. When she'd retired to bed, he said:

"She's just being a teenager. If she wasn't arguing with us, well, with me, she'd be arguing with her mother. Look at it from her point of view. She's just found you and she has to share you with me. And I'm not another father figure, I'm a spoilt, rich kid only a few years older than her. Now, don't protest, you thought the same when you first met me."

"I learnt better," grumbled Erik.

"And so will she."

Lorna dropped references to bloated plutocrats into the conversation for days afterwards. The next weekend they met Raven and Hank in the park. The weather was beautiful, sunny, but not too hot, with a cooling breeze. They laid out blankets under a massive oak tree, Charles needed the shade, and set out salads, rice, pasta, chicken wings, lamb kebabs and strawberries and cream.

Raven immediately imitated Lorna's hair and kept it that way all day, much to Lorna's delight. Raven had been encouraging Hank to be more out and proud, so he took off his shoes and flexed his prehensile feet.

"That is so cool," enthused Lorna, "the number of times I've wished I had an extra pair of hands and you do."

Encouraged by her admiration, Hank climbed the oak and dangled upside down to loud applause. Lorna and Erik threw a metal frisbee (edged with plastic for safety) between them. He'd was trying to teach her better control. Hank leapt higher and higher into the air, trying to intercept it. Raven couldn't jump as high as Hank, but she could suddenly shoot up to twelve feet tall. Erik and Lorna would stop the frisbee in mid air or make it zap off in a completely different direction, stymieing them.

They flopped down, sweaty and hot, under the tree with Charles, who was reclining like a prince of the blood, and ate and drank till they could eat and drink no more. After a rest - Erik dropped off to sleep and was mocked by all as an old man - Raven produced water pistols. They filled up at the lake and raced around, shooting each other. Lorna teamed up with Raven against the boys. Erik's military training gave him a distinct advantage, but Hank lacked killer instinct, and they ended up getting soaked by the girls.

Lorna teased Charles about staying in the shade, but it was friendly teasing.

"Are you a vampire Charles? Will you burst into flame if you step into the sunlight?"

"No, darling, my skin would start to sparkle like diamonds and you would all be dazzled by my unbearable beauty."

"Oh, your beauty is very bearable, Charles," yelled Raven.

"Erik, Lorna, defend my honour," called Charles.

Erik and Lorna launched a tickling attack on Raven, who shouted to Hank for help. He came pouncing over, but betrayed her by joining in the tickling. Raven screamed and Charles came to her defence.

"Hey, whose side are you on?" demanded Lorna.

"She's my sister, blood calls to blood."

They went home via the subway, Lorna falling asleep on one of Erik's shoulders, Charles on the other. Lorna yawned all the way through her regular FaceTime with her mother.

Erik was lulled into a false sense of security by the success of their park outing, so was unprepared for trouble when they met up with the gang at a Mexican restaurant the next weekend.

Everybody was there; Raven, Hank, Alex, Sean, Armando, Emma, Moira, Christian, Gabby and Lilandra. Everyone was introduced to Lorna. Armando did his "stab me in the hand" trick. Sean let loose a note which rapidly passed beyond hearing and sent the Newfoundland being walked past the restaurant quite demented. Alex, whose control had improved massively, lit the candles on the table with a tiny burst of plasma. Lilandra presented Lorna with a bracelet that matched Erik's.

"Thank you, it's beautiful."

She clasped it round her wrist straight away.

There was the usual chaos of ordering. Everybody talked at once, leaning across each other and moving places. Charles went to sit next to Christian. Erik was chatting to Moira about her first six months as a detective, when she got that faraway look that meant Emma was talking to her telepathically. Erik sat back. Lorna tapped him on the shoulder.

"Is he always like that?" she said, gesturing at Charles, who was in animated conversation with Christian.

"Like what?"

"So flirty."

"That's just the way he is. Besides, he's known Christian since he was a kid."

Charles' flirtatious nature was a bit of a trial to Erik, but he knew he didn't mean anything by it, so most of the time it didn't bother him. It had to be fucking Christian though.

"Oh, so nothing romantic there then?"

"Christian used to be Charles sub, not claimed or anything and it was years ago. Hell, Gabby and Lilandra were in relationships with him, it doesn't mean anything."

As soon as he'd said it he knew he shouldn't have. Lorna's eyes widened.

"Christian and Gabby and Lilandra? And he's only twenty-one. Wow, he really gets around."

"He's young and he has a healthy libido, that's all."

"I figure that Christian guy has a healthy libido too, based on the way he's looking at Charles and, damn, his hands are all over him."

Fuck, they were too. Erik spent the rest of the evening trying not to watch Charles and Christian, not helped by Lorna, who kept on pointing out Christian - and Gabby and Lilandra - being physically affectionate with Charles.

When they got home and she'd gone to bed, Charles asked:

"You've been feeling off all evening. What is it?"

"You and fucking Christian."

Charles looked genuinely surprised.

"I thought you were over that?"

"And I thought you weren't going to flirt with him anymore."

"I wasn't flirting, I was just being friendly."

Erik sneered. "Come off it Charles, even Lorna noticed."

"Oh, it's Lorna is it? You know she's jealous of me, why would you listen to her?"

His voice had a decidedly dangerous edge.

"Because sometimes it takes an outsider to point out what's under your nose."

"So you'd rather believe Lorna, who you've known for five minutes, than your established Dom?"

Erik could feel the mental temperature dropping like a stone.

"It's not about believing her, it's about believing my own eyes."

The telepathic storm raged about his head.

"After everything we've been through, you still don't trust me."

It was a statement, not a question.

"Of course I trust you."

"Not based on what you've just said, not based on what I'm picking up from your mind."

Charles' telepathy was an oppressive presence against Erik's skull.

"Everyone has doubts."

"I don't, not about you. I am so doubt free I agreed to your daughter from a previous relationship coming to live with us."

"What the fuck does that have to do with you flirting like a slut with Christian?"

Charles looked furious and he felt furious. There was a frantic buzzing in Erik's head.

"It has everything to do with it! She pointed out me "flirting like a slut" didn't she? I bet you wouldn't even have noticed if she hadn't said anything!"

That was absolutely true. The frantic buzzing intensified, then suddenly cut off. Charles' mental presence withdrew from his mind entirely. It suddenly felt very cold and dark.

"You'll be sleeping in one of the spare bedrooms tonight, Erik. Goodnight."

Charles' Dominance washed over him, then withdrew completely.

Erik lay awake in the spare bedroom for hours. Had Lorna meant to make trouble? Had he overreacted? Had Charles overreacted? It was hard to get to sleep without the ever present touch of Charles telepathy. Dawn was breaking when he finally closed his eyes.


	18. Chapter 18

He was woken by a warm body snuggling up to him. Arms wrapped around his chest and a nose was pressed to the back of his neck.

I'm sorry, I wasn't flirting with Christian, but I was letting him flirt with me, which is just as bad. Next time I'll put a stop to that.

And I'm sorry I listened to Lorna instead of you. We're a couple of idiots, aren't we?

Speak for yourself.

Erik laughed and turned round to kiss Charles. Kissing turned into giving each other sloppy hand-jobs.

Things bowled along pleasantly enough until Raven came round for lunch. It started well, with Raven entertaining Lorna by impersonating various celebrities that Erik had never heard of. Lorna chatted about school, she was working hard for her mid-terms, and Raven told her how Charles had once drunk pints of coffee in an effort to stay awake and revise, but had ended up so jittery he couldn't study a thing and broadcast his wakefulness to the rest of the house, keeping them up all night. Charles disavowed all knowledge of this incident.

Raven had started working for a mutant advocacy group and since Lorna was very "mutant and proud", she wanted to know all about it. The conversation turned to activism and protest and the best way forward for mutants. Erik, Raven and Lorna ended up arguing for separatism against integrationist Charles. Erik wanted separate education and health care, while Charles wanted specialist provision within the mainstream systems. Raven was more radical, she envisaged a separate mutant community. Lorna was yet more radical, she favoured the "Genosha" option, a mutant nation state. The debate got quite heated and Lorna got personal.

"Seriously Charles, as a telepath, how can you be so ridiculously optimistic, so hopelessly naive?"

Erik's throat tightened. He remembered saying something very similar after the Shaw thing. From the look on Charles' face, he remembered too. They were engulfed in a mad swirl of telepathic white noise for a moment, then it abruptly switched off.

Charles stood. "I'm hopeful, yes, but not naive. I'm proud of holding on to hope. I don't cling to it like a drowning man, I fight for it, strive for it, and I always will."

He walked off. The three of them looked at each other.

"Somebody's a sore loser," snarked Lorna.

"Don't," snapped Erik.

He went after Charles. He found him standing on the small balcony, staring sightlessly at the magnificent view of the city. He pressed his chest against Charles' back and embraced him.

If you only knew how hard it is for me to hold onto hope, with everything I've seen and felt in people's heads, the horrors they think, the horrors they commit and the way they justify them. It would be so easy to be cynical and pessimistic about everyone and everything, but I refuse to be. I refuse. I will continue to be hopeful, despite mockery and condemnation, I will continue to hope.

Erik was standing on a vast, bleak plain. Night was falling and the wind was howling. He was holding a lit candle, trying to protect the tiny flickering flame from the icy wind. Then he was back on the balcony.

Charles turned. Erik sank to his knees and bent forward until his forehead was resting on the backs of Charles' socked feet.

"Get up, love, you have nothing to apologise for."

They returned to Raven and Lorna. Lorna tried to restart the debate but Charles said:

"I enjoy a good debate, but not when it turns personal. Let's talk about something else."

Lorna looked pissed off, but a little ashamed too, so hopefully she'd got the message. Raven restarted the conversation by talking about how much she was looking forward to seeing "Hamilton" and did quick-fire impersonations of the cast. She and Hank had had to wait more than six months for tickets. Lorna was green with envy. She was desperate to see the show and pleaded with Raven to take her instead of Hank. Raven laughed and shook her head.

"I'd end up divorced and we're not even married yet."

* * *

Lorna's eighteenth birthday was coming up. She was having a get together with all her friends in the day, then the two of them were taking her out to dinner in the evening.

"It's a very smart restaurant, so I think tuxes for Erik and me and something pretty for you."

"I'd rather have a tux," said Lorna.

"I've been wondering what to get you, so how about I buy you one?"

Their shopping trip was great fun. They traipsed through various high end shops, greeted like royalty, drinks and snacks pressed on them by fawning staff, Lorna's verdant locks admired and cooed over. She took to it like a duck to water with nary a comment about Charles' obscene wealth. She finally found a tuxedo she liked in Armani. It was a deep, dark purple and looked spectacular with her hair.

"Happy Birthday in advance," said Charles.

"Thank you, Uncle Charles," she said, and hugged him enthusiastically.

It was the first time she'd hugged him and the first time she'd acknowledged him as a family member. He looked a little misty eyed as he hugged her back. Erik maintained a stoney front, but felt a little misty inside.

The day came. Susanna had sent a mountain of presents, which Lorna excitedly opened when she woke up. Charles and Erik's friends had sent her little gifts too. Lilandra had made her feather-blade earrings to match her bracelet. Erik had bought her state-of-the-art headphones and had made her a small abstract sculpture, which looked a little like a wave. She was delighted with everything and went off to meet her friends in the best of spirits. Erik and Charles took the opportunity to fuck on the sofa. She returned home laden with yet more gifts. They all got changed into their tuxes, Erik and Charles in grey Ermenegildo Zegna and midnight blue Prada respectively and Lorna in her purple Armani.

The restaurant was the same three Michelin starred place where they'd celebrated their second anniversary. For some reason Charles had booked them in at a very early hour. Lorna was a little overawed.

"Just copy what Charles does, that's what I do," whispered Erik in her ear.

She soon relaxed, particularly once she'd had a glass of wine.

"I know strictly speaking you're not legal yet, but twenty-one is a ridiculous age and it's eighteen in Britain and it's only one glass of wine," said Charles.

"First alcohol ever to touch your lips, eh, Lorna?" said Erik, wryly.

"Yes, Dad, of course, Dad," she replied, putting on an absurdly innocent face.

Erik would have been just as happy, in fact, happier, in somewhere cheap and cheerful, but Lorna loved the theatre of it all.

After umpteen courses, Charles paid - he wouldn't let Erik see the check - and the staff bowed them out. No taxi.

"I thought we'd walk," said Charles.

"What, all the way home?"

"We're not going home. I've got a surprise planned."

Lorna looked curiously at Erik.

"I'm none the wiser, it's a surprise to me too."

It was a warm night, pleasant for a walk. They linked arms, Lorna in the middle. Erik felt so happy he teared up a bit. Lorna didn't notice, but Charles gave him a mental caress. They headed onto Broadway. Erik realised where they were going. Lorna didn't seem to cotton on until she saw the big, illuminated sign. "Hamilton". Lorna shrieked and attack hugged Charles and started jumping up and down. Charles started jumping up and down too. Erik stood there, face stretched into a huge grin, watching his loved ones make idiots of themselves.

"How did you get the tickets?" she asked.

"Bribery, corruption and a little mind control."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

They had the best seats in the house, the first tier above the stalls, right in the middle and right at the front. Lorna knew most of the songs already and sang along, sotto voce. Erik wondered if she might be annoying the people around them.

Don't worry, I'm muting her for them.

Thanks, you're a mensch.

Lorna was enraptured. Charles seemed to enjoy the show almost as much as she did. Even Erik was pretty impressed. He hadn't realised how funny and how touching it would be. The cast got a standing ovation and the audience went mad for Lin-Manuel Miranda. Lorna and Charles whooped and cheered. They chattered nineteen to the dozen when they got out of the theatre, running through all the best bits. They sang and rapped - Charles attempting to rap was probably the funniest thing Erik had heard in his entire life - all the way home in the taxi. When they got home they insisted on reenacting most of the musical for Erik. It was three o'clock in the morning when they all got to bed.

Erik groaned when he was greeted at breakfast by Lorna and Charles singing "One Last Time" to each other.

He was starting to think things had turned a corner with Lorna and Charles and said something along those lines.

"And all it took was Armani and "Hamilton"."

"Are you implying my daughter can be bought?"

Charles laughed. "Can't we all? No, it was actually my thoughtfulness that touched a chord with her."

"Well, whatever it was I'm glad of it. I like to see the two of you getting on."

And they were getting on, particularly as Charles was helping her with some of her science studies.

To give Lorna a break from revision, they went to the coffee shop and met up with the gang. Armando couldn't make it as he was working, Moira was "protecting and serving" as Emma put it, Christian was in Antibes and Raven and Hank were on a weekend getaway.

Alex and Armando were in an "off" phase of their on-again, off-again relationship. Erik couldn't help noticing Lorna trying out her Dominance on him, getting him to fetch her drinks and swap her cherry pastry for a raspberry one and having him pick up her bracelet when she accidentally-on-purpose dropped it. Erik waited until she'd gone to the bathroom, then leaned across to Alex and said, quietly, but with emphasis:

"I'll amputate any body part that touches her."

Alex laughed uncertainly, then went wide eyed with fear when Erik stayed dead serious. When Lorna returned, he was painfully circumspect with her.

Oh, darling, crude threats? I was going to offer to make him think he was a fluffy, white kitten.

Erik choked on his coffee. He couldn't help but be warmed by Charles' protectiveness of Lorna.

Sean, Alex and Lorna were swapping stories of fellow mutants, while the rest of them discussed the latest idiocy perpetrated by the Whitehouse. There was a slight lull in their conversation, as everyone contemplated the current political debacle, and Lorna's voice rose loud and clear:

"Mutants and mutation are just so interesting. That why I don't have many baseline friends, they're just kinda boring. It's like that ancient, old Bowie song, "Gotta make way for the homo superior". Not that all mutants are so great; there's a telepath at my school, he ferrets out everybody's secrets then broadcasts them to the whole school. Telepaths are kinda creepy, I mean, I'm very anti suppressants, but with telepaths you can kind of see the point."

Erik immediately remembered Charles being dosed with suppressants and losing his telepathy. He glanced at Charles, whose face was completely impassive. Sean and Alex looked uncomfortable. Gabby looked incredulous. Lilandra looked furious. Emma flashed into diamond. Lorna gazed around in the sudden silence. Her face fell. Emma changed back into human form. Erik opened his mouth to insist Lorna apologise.

Wait.

That was Emma.

Would you mind if I said something to her?

Not only was Emma a telepath, but her Domme was human.

With my blessing.

"OK, sugar, your Dad's just given me permission to tell you off. Starting with "baselines", are you saying you're superior to Lilandra, who creates beautiful jewellery? To Gabby, who's just started work as a journalist and is already writing leaders? To my Domme, Moira, who straps on her gun and wades into the filth and horror every day to protect her community, mutant and human alike? What about your mom, huh, is she inferior?"

"I didn't mean - " began Lorna.

"Oh, honey, I ain't finished yet. So, a telepath at your school is an asshole. So what? Some people are. And that's what telepaths are, just people. Some good, some bad, most a bit of both. I know telekinetics who are dicks and pyroclasts who are sweethearts. Mutants don't have a monopoly on goodness or evil any more than humans do. And to claim to be "Mutant and Proud" then suggest shooting up your fellow freaks with suppressants because they make you uncomfortable? You should be ashamed."

Lorna stood. She struggled to speak, then sprinted for the bathroom. Erik made to follow her, but Charles stopped him.

Let her have her cry in peace.

"Jeez, Emma, remind me never to piss you off," said Lilandra.

Everyone laughed a bit awkwardly.

"Do you think I was too harsh?" asked Emma, looking at Erik.

It was the first time he'd ever seen her uncertain about anything.

"No, not at all. You said exactly what I wanted to, but better. There would have been a lot more swearing if I'd told her off."

"Except I wish you'd said that, genetically, humans and mutants are identical, so any distinction is entirely arbitrary," said Charles.

"Next time I tell someone off I'll be sure to leave room for a science segment."

That got some more genuine laughter.

"I'd like to apologise for my daughter," said Erik.

"Oh, honey, no need for that. She's just a teenager being a teenager. I remember what a nightmare I was at that age. My telepathic ethics aren't exactly pristine now, but back then I had no restraint."

Everybody jumped in with all the shit they'd done as teenagers.

"I burnt down the gym."

"I shattered every one of my grandma's best crystal glasses."

"I tried to run away to Israel."

"I got expelled from three schools."

"I was a car thief."

"I was a slut."

"Charles," said Emma, "you're still a slut, you just confine your slutting to Erik."

Erik slung an arm round Charles.

"Yep, I'm reaping the benefits of all that teenage promiscuity."

Gabby shook her head.

"Mortifying to think he was just practising on us to get ready for Erik."

Lilandra grinned. "Oh, I dunno, some of that practising was pretty damn fine."

Gabby grinned too. "Some of that practising was perfect."

"OK ladies, please stop purving on my Dom."

General laughter. Lorna stepped hesitantly up to the table. Her eyes and the tip of her nose were suspiciously red. She gulped and said:

"I'd like to apologise. Emma and Charles, I'm sorry for what I said about telepaths. Lilandra and Gabby, I'm sorry for what I said about base . . . I mean hu . . . I mean non-mutants. Everyone else, I'm sorry for being an asshole."

Everybody said variations of "apology accepted".

Emma held out her arms and said:

"Oh, baby-cakes, come to Aunty Ems."

Lorna walked round the table and Emma embraced her warmly.

Erik mouthed "baby-cakes" at Charles.

Charles mouthed "Aunty Ems" at Erik.

Sean and Alex sniggered.

"You two had better stop laughing or I'll turn your brains to mush."

"Sean's brain is already mush from all that pot he smokes."

"Hey, no fair!"

Lorna was passed round the table and sort of ceremonially hugged by everyone, ending up with Charles. They gazed at each other silently and Erik guessed they were having a telepathic conversation. Lorna smiled shyly and muttered "thank you".

The rest of the afternoon was spent very stupidly. They played "Word Disassociation", where someone said a word and the next person had to say something entirely unconnected to it. Everybody else tried to come up with tenuous associations between completely unrelated words. They played some kind of table tapping and clapping game that Erik couldn't get the hang of at all. They played "Who Am I?" Erik was "My Little Pony", Charles was "Vlad the Impaler" and Lorna was "The Pilsbury Doughboy".

Things were better at home after the coffee shop incident. Lorna sometimes got snippy with Charles or possessive of Erik, but she was so much nicer of a teenager than either of them had been, they felt they had no room for complaint.

Lorna got through her exams. She said she'd done terribly, which worried Erik. Charles reassured him that most teenagers felt that way. He always had and he'd sometimes got one hundred percent in his exams. Lorna wanted to let off steam by going to a party. All her friends were going. Erik had met a few of them and they seemed like nice kids, so he said yes, with the proviso that he'd pick her up at midnight. She'd moaned, but he'd stood firm. He dropped her off at half seven at a nice house in a nice neighbourhood. She immediately ran up to a couple of kids he recognised as Jubilee and Bobby.

He spent the evening trying, and failing, not to worry. Charles kept on sending him soothing waves. About ten o'clock Charles fell asleep on Erik's shoulder. His PhD project was at a critical point and he'd been putting in some early mornings and late nights. About twenty minutes later he sat bolt upright and said:

"We have to go get Lorna."

"What?"

Charles looked shaken. "You know how I keep a sort of mental thread between myself and anyone important to me? Well, Lorna's mind has suddenly become seriously disordered. We need to get her right now."

Erik didn't ask any more questions, he just grabbed the car keys and levitated the both of them down the stairwell. He drove as fast as he safely could, using his powers to keep the car stable at high speed and to watch out for other vehicles.

"Can . . . can you tell what's the matter with her?"

"I'm not sure, but I've felt something similar with people who've taken LSD."

"She's been taking drugs?"

"Don't jump to conclusions, Erik. I'm doing my best to keep her calm, but she's very distressed."

Erik drove faster. They screeched to a halt outside the house and leapt out of the car.

"She's out back."

We're coming, Lorna, we're coming, your Dad and me, we're almost there.

Erik plunged into the house. The music was deafening and he was blinded by flashing lights. He started shoving his way through the crowd of drunken teenagers when, suddenly, they parted like the Red Sea. Charles. Erik dived out of the back door into the yard. There was a pool. Lorna was standing on the diving platform. She was sobbing and babbling incoherently. Dozens of metal objects were orbiting her; cutlery, bits of jewellery and garden tools. Jubilee, Bobby and St. John were trying to persuade her to come down. Several boys were laughing. One of them shouted:

"That's right freak, you put on a show for us."

Erik punched him in the face and shoved his two friends into the pool. He and Charles climbed onto the platform and helped Lorna down. She didn't seem to know where she was or who they were. Erik wrapped Lorna in his arms and held her tight as she screamed and struggled.

"Thank fuck you've come," sobbed Jubilee. "She was fine one minute, joking and laughing and dancing, and then she started to act real weird and get upset and we couldn't calm her down and it was horrible and I was so scared and - "

"It's all right, Jubilee, you did your best to take care of her, you're a good friend," said Charles, soothingly. "Now, this is important, did she take anything, any drugs, LSD, anything like that?"

"No, honestly, Mr Xavier, Lorna's not like that. She drank a few beers, sure, but she didn't take anything."

"I think someone put something in her drink, probably one of those assholes who were laughing," broke in Bobby.

"Yeah, I heard that douche, Spencer, boasting that he'd spiked some freak just for laughs," added St. John. "He must have meant Lorna."

Erik was flooded with the wonderful clarity of rage. He rolled the kid he'd punched into the pool with his foot. Still holding on to Lorna, he pulled all three boys under by their watches, zippers and eyelets. He watched calmly as they struggled and thrashed.

Let them go.

Charles wasn't compelling Erik, but he was using his Dominance. Erik resisted and held onto the three kids.

We can deal with them later, the important thing is to get help for Lorna.

He was right. Erik let go and the boys rose to the surface, gasping and choking.

"I'm not finished with you," Erik hissed and spat in the face of the boy who'd called Laura a freak.

He ran to the car, carrying Lorna bridal style, closely followed by Charles. He strapped her into the back and Charles got in next to her. Erik stamped on the gas and they careered off like a bat out of hell. Lorna moaned and gabbled. The car was handling appallingly and Erik had to fight to keep it on the road with his powers.

"Charles, I think she's messing with the metal of the car. Can you do something?"

"Her brain waves are so deranged it's hard to get a grip on them, but I'll have a go."

Charles pressed his fingers to his forehead. Lorna screamed:

"Get out of my head."

Erik felt it as she did it. The metal of Charles' watch compressed. Charles made a thin, high sound. Erik desperately pressed back and broke the watch strap in a dozen places. He felt a burst of telepathic power. Lorna suddenly went still and quiet. Her eyes closed and her head drooped. The car started handling normally. Erik had stopped the watch severing Charles' wrist, but, judging by the iron he could feel dripping down Charles' hand, he hadn't done enough.

"Are you OK? Is Lorna OK?"

"She's fine, I just knocked her out. I rather afraid my wrist is broken."

He couldn't keep his voice from shaking.

"Fuck, elevate your wrist and keep some pressure on it to stop the bleeding."

Charles did as he was told, letting out a quiet gasp of pain.

"Oh, baby, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Darling, you have nothing to be sorry for. It would have been a whole lot worse if it hadn't been for you. Besides, if I'm going to hospital, I might as well go on my own account."

He laughed, shakily.

Erik floored it.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignore the medical stuff, it's bollocks.

The hospital confirmed that Lorna had been dosed with LSD. There wasn't much they could do except put her on a drip and observe her. The doctor said they'd keep her in overnight, then release her in the morning. Charles had a transverse fracture of the ulna. They put him in a cast and said he could go home.

"You should go home and rest," said Erik. "I'm going to stay here with Lorna."

"I wouldn't be able to rest if I went home. I'd rather stay here with you and her."

Lorna's room had a sizeable sofa in it. Erik settled Charles on it, with a pillow and a blanket and took the chair by her bed. Charles fell asleep surprisingly quickly. Erik dozed lightly, waking every time Lorna moved or made a noise. She grew quieter and calmer as the night drew on. Erik finally dropped off as dawn broke. He was woken just a couple of hours later by a nurse coming in to check on Lorna's vital signs. Charles was snoring genteelly on the sofa. The nurse woke Lorna up and as soon as she saw Erik she sobbed:

"Oh, dad, dad, dad."

He took her in his arms and hugged her tight.

"It's alright, baby, it's alright, I'm here, you're fine, everything's going to be alright."

The nurse cleared her throat. They separated so she could check Lorna.

"When can I take her home?"

"That's for the doctor to decide."

"Well, is she likely to decide any time soon?"

"She'll be round when she can, just be patient."

Erik grumbled and Lorna nudged him. As soon as the nurse was gone he sat on Lorna's bed and took her in his arms again.

"I didn't take any drugs, honest."

"I know, baby, your friends told me what happened. Some asshole spiked your drink."

She shuddered. "It was horrible. There was like this veil between me and the world and I could see Jubilee and Bobby and St. John but I couldn't hear them and they were getting further and further away and I knew these horrible things were waiting to get me, I couldn't see them, but I knew they were there. I summoned lots of metal, but the things could get through the cracks, and they were getting closer and I could see them and they looked like regular people, but I knew they were evil inside. Everything was different, colours, sounds, everything, and, like, different bad."

"Hush, baby, hush, it's all over now, sweetheart," he said petting her hair and stroking her back.

He could feel the rage churning in his gut, but he kept it down, there was no place for it here.

"Dad, did I . . . did I hurt Charles?" she asked, looking up at him.

God, she looked so young and vulnerable and fragile.

"Charles is snoring on the sofa, baby, he's fine."

Her eyes widened. "He has a cast. Did I do that?"

"It was an accident, Lorna, you were out of your head, you didn't know what you were doing," he reassured her.

She burst into tears and sobbed into his chest. Charles stirred and sat up, awakened by her distress. He got up and sat down on the other side of the bed.

"Hey, Lorna, it's alright, I'm fine, it's just a broken wrist, I've had worse falling out of a tree when I was a kid."

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, Charles. You were just trying to help and I did this to you."

Charles leaned in and put an arm round her shoulder.

"You are not responsible, Lorna, you had no idea what you were doing." His expression hardened. "The boy who drugged you bears the responsibility, not you."

"I still feel bad."

"That's because you're a lovely person, but you really shouldn't, you know."

She hugged him and he hugged her back. Breakfast arrived. Lorna wasn't very hungry, but was persuaded to eat a little. Charles was ravenous and finished off everything she left. Erik went and got himself a coffee from the machine down the corridor. It was disgusting, but he needed the caffeine. They talked in a desultory fashion about nothing in particular. There was a great deal of hugging and kissing. It was looking like they'd be there for lunch, when the doctor turned up. She examined Lorna and asked her a few questions, then said:

"I'm happy to discharge you, but you need someone to keep an eye on you in case you suffer flashbacks."

"We'll do that, ma'am," said Erik.

"Don't leave her alone for at least twenty-four hours. If she has a flashback, try to keep her calm and restrain her if necessary. If it's bad, bring her straight back here, OK?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm going to complete the discharge paperwork and write a prescription for a mild sedative. Give it about half an hour, then go to the front desk and they'll sign you out and give you the prescription."

"Thank you."

"No problem," she said. She smiled at Lorna. "And you need to get yourself some better friends, young lady."

"My friends stuck by me, it was some asshole I don't even know who did this," said Lorna.

The doctor grinned. "Well, in that case, you hang onto your friends."

Lorna grinned back. "I will."

She had a shower and got dressed, then they made their way to the front desk and picked up the sedative. Erik drove them home. Lorna sat on Charles' lap on the front seat, which looked hilarious as she was as tall as him. Charles protested that one of them should sit in the back, so everyone had a seatbelt. Laura insisted that she wanted to sit up front with her dad and with him as well.

"I wouldn't worry too much, Charles, the chances of me crashing a car with my mutation are infinitesimal."

"Alright then, but if we're stopped by the police I'll blame the two of you," said Charles, primly, making them both laugh.

When they got home, Lorna changed into her PJs. Erik had a shower, while Charles sat with her and then Charles had a bath, which was a bit awkward with the cast, while Erik sat with her. Erik heated some soup and they all ate. Then they sat on the sofa, Lorna in the middle and watched daytime TV. Erik fell asleep. He woke to find Lorna and Charles gazing fixedly at each other.

"You two OK?"

"Yes, dad, Charles is teaching me to project."

Lorna seemed to have gotten over her fear of telepaths.

"She's very good, Erik, a natural, just like you. Most people have trouble focusing their thoughts, so their projections are diffuse, Lorna and you are very precise, very disciplined."

Lorna beamed.

"You are a bit loud though, dear."

She pouted then concentrated.

"Perfection, darling."

Lorna phoned Jubilee and then Bobby and then St. John. Their conversations went on for some time and seemed to consist mainly of exclamations and a sort of verbal shorthand, plus teenage slang, that Erik found baffling. Charles leafed through some research papers and Erik sharpened his knives and the kitchen knives with his powers. Then he had Lorna practice forming his ingot into one geometric form after another and sending it flying round the room in increasingly complicated arcs.

They ordered Chinese take-out for dinner; special fried rice (no pork), egg fried rice, beef in black bean sauce, chicken and cashew nuts, fragrant crispy duck, prawn toasts, fried seaweed and sticky ribs. They lounged on the rug, stuffing their faces, and polished the whole lot off. Erik and Lorna mocked Charles for his ham-fisted use of chopsticks. Charles farted, which made Lorna scream with laughter, then she farted, so they teased her unmercifully.

They watched a bit more TV, some kind of sci-fi show, "Farscape" or something like that, which Lorna and Charles loved, but Erik thought was complete rubbish. Come bedtime, Lorna joined them in their massive bed.

"I'm way too old for this," she muttered.

That didn't stop her snuggling down between Charles and Erik and dropping off almost straight away.

"Like a little squirrel," said Charles, softly.

"Like a teenaged mutant," said Erik, dryly.

Charles made a face at him. They looked at each other across Lorna. Erik wanted to speak, but couldn't find the words to express everything he felt; love, relief, anger, protectiveness, joy, fear, hope, so much, so, so much.

I know, darling, I know. You'll never stop fearing for her and hoping for her and loving her.

And you, Charles, and you.

Charles' telepathy and Dominance flowed over him, a warm, comforting weight, pressing him into a dreamless sleep.

The next day was a Sunday. Lorna asked if her friends could come over. Erik said yes. Jubilee and Bobby turned up and they all disappeared into her bedroom.

"I guess I'd better call Susanna," said Erik, "but first we need to sort out what we're going to do about the little bastards that did this."

Charles sighed. "I'm afraid we can't prove anything. I know St. John overheard Spencer saying he'd spiked someone's drink, but he didn't actually say it was Lorna's and no one saw him do it, except his friends, and they're unlikely to testify as it would get them into trouble. It's just one teenager's word against another's."

Erik felt his anger stir, curling in his gut like a snake.

"I can't just leave it, Charles, I can't. When I think what could have happened to Lorna, to my little girl . . . they have to pay."

Charles was silent, micro-expressions that Erik couldn't decipher flitting across his face. If he counselled inaction, they were going to have a major row. Erik braced himself to fight his Dom.

"I . . . I may have taken action already."

Erik stared. "What?"

"I was very angry. While I was getting my cast done, I went into their minds. None of them will ever spike anyone's drink again. One of them has already posted photos of himself trying on his mother's underwear. Another has scraped his father's Ferrari from fender to fender on both sides. And the one that put the LSD in Lorna's drink - "

He paused. His face was remorseless and his voice implacable.

"He'll be experiencing her hallucinations as nightmares every night for the next month."

He looked at Erik, this short, pretty-faced young man, who wielded unimaginable power.

"I could do more if you like. For you and Lorna I'd do pretty much anything."

Erik was tempted, he knew Charles would do it, but did he really want him to? Charles was basically a good person. Erik didn't want to change that. Just as he'd killed Shaw so Charles wouldn't have to take a life, he'd ask for no more punishment than had already been doled out.

"No, Charles, you've done enough. Thank you."

Erik knelt and pressed his face into Charles stomach. Charles put both his hands on his head. His power flowed over Erik like a waterfall of light. Someone cleared their throat. They looked up to see three awestruck teenagers gazing at them. Erik got up. Weirdly enough he didn't feel embarrassed. Charles was his Dom, Lorna and her friends would have to get used to seeing signs of his submission. Charles was quite at ease.

"Er, Jubilee and Bobby are just going," said Lorna.

"Bye, guys, and thanks again for taking care of Lorna," said Erik.

Jubilee blushed. "Lorna would have done the same for us."

"Yeah, I just wish we could have done more," added Bobby.

"You did everything you could," said Charles.

After they'd gone, Erik said:

"I'm going to call Susanna. Lorna, she'll probably want to speak to you."

Erik launched FaceTime on his iPad. Susanna was understandably upset at first, but when he'd reassured her that Lorna was perfectly alright now and the boys that had spiked her drink had been dealt with, she calmed down a bit. At first she'd wanted to fly straight home, but she'd only got a couple of weeks left to go, so decided to return as planned.

"I can't apologise enough, Susanna. I'm so sorry this happened when she'd was in my care, when you'd entrusted her to me."

"You have nothing to apologise for, Erik. I know those kids. If I'd been home I'd have let her go to that party and exactly the same thing would have happened. It might have been worse since I wouldn't have had Charles to pick up on something being wrong."

"Thanks, but I'm still going to feel guilty about it."

She laughed. "One of the hazards of being a parent."

He sighed. "Yeah, I'm starting to realise that. Anyway, here's Lorna."

Lorna chatted happily away to her mother, reassuring her that everything was OK.

"Charles, mom would like to talk to you."

Charles looked a bit apprehensive, but took the tablet from Lorna's hands. They didn't speak for long, then Lorna had another brief chat with her mom before they hung up. Charles looked a bit watery eyed.

"What did she say?"

"All sorts of nice things, it was a bit embarrassing really. You know, Erik, I can see what you saw in her."

Lorna made a puking gesture. "Ew, Charles, gross. Don't even talk about my mom like that."

"You cheeky little sod," he said, tickling her and making her scream.

"Dad, help!"

Erik grabbed Charles and started tickling him. Lorna joined in.

"No fair, I've only got one hand!"

Lorna and Erik chased a shrieking Charles round the house, crashing into the furniture and knocking books and papers onto the floor. Charles locked himself into the bathroom, which was no use against Erik. He and Lorna got him down on the floor and tickled him until he wept.

"Oh, Charles, you're such a girl," said Lorna.

He grinned. "Well, girls are great, so I'll take that as a compliment."

"Oh, Charles, you're such a dick," said Erik.

His grin turned filthy. "Well, dicks are great, so - "

"Argh, no!" yelled Lorna, sprinting from the room.

He wept later that night, when Lorna was safely asleep in her own bed. Erik stripped him and wrapped him in coils of metal and levitated him into the air. He slid a metal dildo into him and fucked him so slowly he begged and pleaded for Erik to speed up. Erik ignored his verbal pleas, as he was broadcasting the complete opposite. He levitated himself into the air behind Charles and ran his hands over his silky skin, paying particular attention to his gorgeous buttocks. He felt a burst of admiration and arousal from Charles for his perfect control of his powers.

He kissed his fingers where they protruded from the cast. He sank his teeth into his shoulders, leaving red crescent-shaped marks in his pale skin. He dragged his nails across his back, rosy trails criss-crossing the planes of alabaster muscle. He kissed down the elegant line of his spine, parted his cheeks and pressed his mouth to the rim of his hole, feeling the slide of the lubed dildo against his lips. He straightened up and positioned his cock beside the dildo. He pushed in next to it. Charles gasped and arched his whole body into a bow. Erik started fucking him in the same slow rhythm as the dildo. He kept the leisurely pace going until Charles was fully erect and leaking pre-come and weeping quiet tears of desperation.

Erik was close now. He was having trouble keeping them both in the air and keeping himself bobbing up and down and in and out of Charles. He lowered them to the ground and pushed Charles face first against the wall, using the dildo and his prick to force him onto his toes. He suddenly started thrusting faster, with the dildo too, taking Charles completely by surprise. He yelped and reached for his own cock with his good hand. Erik grabbed his wrist and pinned it above his head. He thrust harder, with cock and dildo, jolting Charles against the wall.

He drew a slender metal rod along his perineum, between his balls, up the underside of his cock, around his foreskin and slipped the very tip into his slit. Charles sobbed and came, shooting come over the rod, his belly and the wall. Erik felt Charles' orgasm rush through him like a tidal surge. He pulled out, slapped Charles' ass half a dozen times to redden it up, then painted pale lines of come across his roseate cheeks.

When he surfaced from subspace, they were lying in a tangled heap on the floor, his soft cock resting against Charles' ass crack. God, he could stay like that forever.

Well I can't because my leg's gone to sleep. Now put me on the bed and clean me up.

Erik laughed and did as he was told.

Lorna's final two weeks went by way too fast. It seemed barely any time at all until Lorna was packed and Susanna was knocking at the door and Charles was asking her about Canada and the job swap.

"He told me," said Lorna to Erik.

"What?"

"Charles told me what he did to those boys. He did that for me. That's serious "go directly to jail, do not collect $200" shit and he did it for me. And he trusted me enough to tell me about it."

"Yes. He really cares for you Lorna."

She gazed seriously up at him.

"He's not what I expected, he's much, much better."

Erik hugged her so hard she squeaked. Everybody hugged everybody and everybody, even Erik, cried. He was able to avoid completely falling apart only because he and Lorna already had a whole series of get-togethers set up.

When they'd waved them goodbye and come back into the apartment, Erik was in serious need of comfort. Charles sat on the sofa and, instead of sitting beside him, Erik knelt at his feet. He didn't say anything, he didn't feel capable of speech, he just laid his head on Charles' strong thighs. Charles pulled his fingers through Erik's hair, gently scratching at his scalp with his nails. Erik fell asleep like that, kneeling at his Dom's feet. When Erik woke up, he was lying on the floor with a pillow under his head and a blanket draped over him. Charles was fast asleep on the sofa, sitting up with a throw wrapped round him and his head at an uncomfortable angle.

Erik picked him up and carried him off to bed.

"Don't forget the Germans," he muttered.

He had a tendency to talk rubbish in his sleep.

"No, sir, I won't."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi peeps! I haven't touched this for ages, so please comment and let me know what you think :)

It happened when they were doing the laundry. Charles' contribution consisted of perching on the dryer and chattering at Erik while he loaded and unloaded the washing machine and folded clothes. Occasionally he lifted his legs so Erik could get at the dryer.

They were discussing having children, the pros and cons of adoption vs. surrogacy. Charles was undecided. Erik favoured surrogacy. There had always been a significant proportion of same-sex Dom/sub pairs, so the surrogacy industry was well established and highly regulated. Most of the surrogate mothers were older women who'd had their own kids and wanted to share that joy with others and be reasonably compensated. Besides, Erik loved the idea of a baby with Charles' eyes. He'd seen Charles' baby photos, thanks to Raven, and he'd been the most beautiful baby on the planet, hell, in the universe. There were hoops to jump through and tons of paperwork whatever option they went for.

"It would all be a lot easier if we were married," grumbled Erik.

Charles giggled. "Is that a proposal?"

Erik looked at him. His hair was a mess. He'd spilt something on his teeshirt and there were holes of the non-fashionable, just-worn-out sort in his jeans. One foot was bare, the other was clad in a fluffy, purple sock. His bright blue eyes were crinkled in amusement and his red lips were parted in a grin.

Erik pictured him naked and bound and writhing on Erik's cock, mind and mouth lavishing him with praise. He saw him tipsy and laughing with his friends, sending Erik filthy thoughts. He remembered the bad times when they'd torn at each other in their pain. He saw him walking out of the boardroom, suited and booted, surrounded by acolytes and giving off Dominance like a storm crackling with lightening. He saw the two of them arguing fiercely about the Middle East peace process, Erik swearing and losing his temper and Charles getting colder and more logical with every word. He saw them sitting together on the sofa, eating take-out and watching some terrible old horror film, Charles clutching at his arm whenever anything supposedly scary happened.

"Yes. Yes, it is a proposal."

Charles looked uncertain. His grin wavered a little.

"Isn't the Dom supposed to ask the sub?"

Erik suddenly felt a bit uncertain himself. It had seemed like exactly the right thing to say. After all, he wanted to marry Charles, he was one hundred percent sure of that. But what if Charles wasn't so sure? No, they were talking about kids for chrissakes, Charles was as committed to their relationship as he was. Not quite knowing what to do, he said:

"Don't go all traditionalist on me now, for fuck's sake."

Charles' grin had disappeared altogether. His telepathy rippled as though Erik had dropped a stone into a calm pool.

"Are you serious?"

Erik swallowed. "Yes."

Charles started to smile. It was the soft, joyful, loving smile he saved for a lucky few. Erik was almost bowled over by the wave of yesyesyeslovejoyminemysubmyerikallyoursalwaysyours that swept through him. He flung his arms round Charles and kissed him wet and messy. Charles laughed against his mouth, wrapped his arms and legs round Erik and kissed him back with a whole lot of tongue and spit. Eventually they had to separate to breathe. They gazed at each other. Charles was still smiling that special smile and Erik knew his own lips were curved in the manic, over-the-top grin that everyone but Charles found a bit much.

"You could at least have gone down on one knee," said Charles.

Erik went one better. He went down on both knees.

"Charles, you've been my Dominant for six years. You've always treated my submission with honour and respect, as the gift it is. You've always tried to give me what I need, even in the darkest of times. You've accepted my daughter as your own. I've known no greater joy than to be your submissive. I can think of no greater privilege than to be your husband."

Charles burst into tears and hurled himself off the dryer to land on Erik. They kissed some more, then Charles started peeling Erik out of his clothes, kissing each patch of skin as it was revealed. Erik undressed Charles, licking and sucking and nipping his porcelain flesh. Erik summoned the lube all the way from the bedroom by its metal cap. They made love in a nest of laundry, Erik on his back, Charles fucking himself on Erik's cock. Erik looked up at him, flushed a rosy red from cheeks to chest to cock, skin gleaming with a fine sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he slowly rose and fell. He couldn't believe Charles was his.

Yes, yes, all yours, always yours and you are mine, mine, mine.

He smiled down at Erik and started rotating his hips and clenching, while still maintaining the same slow pace. Erik longed to thrust up into him, but stayed quite still, hands clutching at the clothes that covered the floor. He couldn't help groaning though.

So good for me, always so good for me. You will bring me off with your hand and then you will fuck me as hard and fast as you can and come deep in my ass.

Erik put one hand on Charles' hip bone and wrapped the other round his cock. He took a firm, verging on too-tight grip, just the way Charles liked it, and stroked him in the same rhythm as he was riding Erik. Charles sent bursts of being so full, so stretched, of having his prostate nudged by a hard cock and of the lovely tight grip of Erik's fingers. His telepathy swirled up and out as he moaned and spurted come over Erik's hand and belly.

Mindful of his instructions, Erik took his hand off Charles' cock and clamped it to his other hip bone. He thrust into him fiercely. Charles flaccid cock flopped against his pubes. He thrust harder, pistoning his hips up and dragging Charles down at the same time. Charles made little noises of distress - he must be sensitive as hell, having just come - but his thoughts were all a mindless urging of Erik to climax. Erik felt his balls draw up and tighten. He sat up, gripped Charles' slender neck with both hands, pressed his mouth to Charles' lips in a brutal kiss and shot his come deep inside him.

They collapsed on the laundry, Erik dropping deep into subspace. When he came round, Charles was lying beside him, propped up on one elbow, looking at him with that soft smile. Erik smiled back, then frowned.

"I'm going to have to do all this laundry again. The clean stuff's got all mixed up with the dirty and I can't remember which is which."

"Plus we've covered it in sweat and lube and come," said Charles, cheerfully.

"Well, don't look so fucking pleased about it, you little shit."

"Oh, Erik, we're not even married yet and already the magic's gone."

Erik tickled him till he shrieked.

* * *

Telling their family and friends took an inordinately long time. Erik wanted to post it on social media and be done. Charles was scandalised and insisted on telling everyone in person.

Erik was surprised by how many people he had to tell. He told Lorna and Susanna first. Susanna was pleased, but Lorna was ecstatic. She was in her third year at Caltech and loving her studies, despite the vast amount of work. He phoned her. 

"Oh, dad, I'm so happy for you and Charles." She laughed. "I'm going to have to start calling him "step-mom", it'll drive him crazy."

Erik laughed. "God, yes, he'll hate it. You go for it, but don't tell him I encouraged you."

"Coward," scoffed Lorna.

"Hey, he's my Dom, plus a terrifyingly powerful telepath. I don't care if he scrambles your brains, but I want to keep mine un-fried."

"Thanks for that. So, do I get to be a bridesmaid?"

"I was hoping you'd be my best man, er, woman, um, mutant."

There was a long silence, then some sniffing.

"That, that would be wonderful," sobbed Lorna.

"Hey, don't cry baby, it's meant to be a nice thing."

"It is a nice thing, it's a lovely thing, it's the best thing ever, I'm just crying coz I'm so happy."

"Yeah, Charles does that too. I've never really understood it."

"You are so emotionally constipated."

"So long as I'm not genuinely constipated, that's fine by me."

"Ew, dad, gross!"

He told some of the staff at Lehnsherr Security, including Azazel. The teleporter had turned out to be incredibly useful, having worked for the "opposition" for so many years, and was now Erik's right hand man. Erik told Logan and Marie. He hadn't seen Logan professionally for several years, but he met him and Marie socially due to their friendship with Emma. Marie squealed and launched herself at him in an attack hug (gloves on, so no danger of having the life sucked out of him). Logan grunted and said:

"About time you pulled your head out of your ass."

Erik gave his adamantium skeleton a tweak.

He told the rape survivors group. People had come and gone over the years, so he'd kept up his self-defence classes. Angel had taken over the running of the group. She was a fully accredited counsellor now. She'd been collared by a Dom called Remy, who Erik had met a few times and thought was the shadiest person going.

"You sure you're OK with him?"

Angel smiled.

"I know how he comes across and a lot of what you're thinking about him is probably true. He's a conman and a grifter and the only reason he hasn't spent a ton of time in jail is that he's too smart to get caught. But he's a good Dom to me, Erik, he truly is. We love each other just as much as you and Charles. He's good for me. Besides, I can spit acid, so I'll melt his head clean off if I need to."

Erik told his friends at the synagogue. The old ladies were so excited he thought some of them were going to have an apoplexy. He was an occasional attendee at services and a more regular visitor to various social events. He often brought Charles along, who was cooed over and petted as if he was a prize dog.

Jealous, darling?

They wouldn't be like that if they knew what you were really like.

No, they'd be even more adoring.

Erik snorted and projected a stream of obsencities, many of them Yiddish, at Charles, forgetting Mrs Adelmann was a low level psionic. She gave him a very reproachful look, tutted and shook her head. Erik was mortified. Charles was in stiches.

When Erik told Gabby they were getting married she said:

"I knew I wasn't the right one for him and I know you are. Mazel tov, Erik."

"A sheynem dank."

Erik visited Lilandra's SoHo jewellery shop to tell her. She'd done very well. Besides her own store, she sold through Barney's, Bergdorf Goodman, Henri Bendel and Trinity Place.

"I want to make the the rings myself, but Charles and I would like you to design them."

Her grin nearly split her face. "Oh, Erik, it'd be a pleasure."

Charles told Raven before anyone else. She got tearful and so did Charles and they ended up crying all over each other, while Erik lurked in the background and got embarrassed. Raven had split up with Hank about four months ago, so, while she was happy for Charles, their good news was a bit of a slap in the face.

Hank had never come to terms with his mutation. He and Raven had argued about it constantly. About eighteen months ago, Hank had experimented on himself in an attempt to "correct" his feet. The drug had turned him into a huge, blue, furry, fanged and clawed beast. Charles had been furious and had lectured Hank about the ethics of experimenting on himself and the risks of human testing when large scale animal tests were still pending. He'd also stood by him through the professional and personal fall-out that followed.

Hank had turned to suppressants to look "normal". Raven had been absolutely enraged. She'd been sympathetic and supportive when Hank had transformed himself. She'd told him the blue, furry beast was his true self, that now he couldn't pretend he wasn't a mutant because it was plain for everyone to see, like her mutation. Hank had responded, somewhat bitterly, that she didn't know what she was talking about as she could look however she liked. When he'd started on the suppressants, it had been the beginning of the end.

"You know, Raven, if you don't want me to invite Hank, I won't," said Charles.

Raven smiled a little mistily.

"It's been four months, I think we can meet without going for each other's throats. He's one of your oldest friends, it wouldn't be fair to you to exclude him. Anyway, it'll be easy to avoid him at a huge wedding."

Charles looked at Erik, then back at Raven.

"We were planning on having the ceremony at the City Clerk's office, then meeting up in a restaurant with a few friends."

Raven sat up straight as a rod and her scales flickered wildly.

"What! No, oh god, no! That would be miserable. You've got to invite everyone. You've got to have a huge do at the house. Hell, the mansion's the perfect wedding venue. You only get married once, hopefully, so you've got to make the most of it, you've got to go all out to make it the most spectacular day of your life. Oh, Charles, can I be your wedding planner? Oh, please, please, it would mean so much to me to be the one to make everything perfect for you."

She gazed at Charles with a pleading expression on her face, golden eyes bright with tears.

Charles looked at Erik.

I know it's not what we want, but look at her. How can I say no? Surely all that matters is that we'll be married?

Oh, fuck, shit, fuck, yeah, alright, if it'll make you and her happy, but don't blame me when she's making you taste a dozen different types of cake.

Charles sent him a wave of thankyouloveyouthankyou.

"Erik and I would love to have you as our wedding planner. I can't think of anyone who'd do it better. Thank you for offering, darling, and I'd like you to give me away too."

Raven bounced up and down on the sofa and hugged Charles so tight he squeaked.

Charles told his mother by phone.

"How was she?"

"She actually sounded mildly pleased."

"Wonders never cease."

"I know. She must be mellowing with age or starting in on the martinis even earlier in the day."

Emma and Moira were delighted. Emma said she'd seen it coming for ages and was only surprised it had taken them so long. Sean, who was working as a high school art and drama teacher, offered to bake hash wedding favours. Erik told him to fuck off. Charles thought they should have accepted his offer.

"It would certainly relax everyone."

"We'd have to get them past wedding planzilla first," said Erik.

Charles shuddered. Raven had become worryingly obsessed with every detail of the wedding.

"Perhaps not."

Alex and Armando had recently got engaged, so they were naturally interested in Charles and Erik's wedding.

"Might get some ideas for our own affair," said Armando.

"Not unless you've got about a million bucks to spare. Raven has gone completely insane. Every time one of us says something about the cost, she gives Charles this little girl lost look and says, "But you can afford it and I so want to make things special," and he's putty in her hands."

"Damn, rather you than me," said Alex.

Erik was feeling rather anyone else than him as the days wore on and the wedding planning got more and more frantic.

First there was the colour scheme. Raven and Charles agreed on white, blue and purple. Erik insisted on adding a little magenta into the mix.

"But why?" moaned Raven.

"I dunno, I just like it."

Raven had resisted, but Charles had got very Dominant, so she gave in. Thus there were going to be peonies among the blue delphiniums and purple irises and white roses. The linen napkins were going to be magenta and so were some of the candles.

Then there were the invitations. Raven forced them them to look at a variety of tasteful "shades of white and cream, touched with a hint of gold or silver" stationery. In the end they choose off-white and silver.

"OK, now what font do we want?"

Charles gritted his teeth and Erik swore under his breath.

They all look the same to me, he projected.

Just humour her, darling. Agree with everything she says and we might escape in half an hour.

Unfortunately Raven seemed determined to argue with herself, so it was forty five painful minutes until she settled on Alex Brush.

"We can do the place settings and menus and notices in the same font and style. Unless you think that's too matchy matchy?"

Charles smile was a trifle forced, but Raven didn't seem to notice.

"No darling, I think that would be perfect, absolutely perfect. You're doing a tremendous job. I don't know what we'd do without you."

Raven beamed.

What we'd do without her is have some free time that wasn't consumed by this fucking wedding, projected Erik.

Charles snorted with laughter and had to pretend he was coughing.

Raven dragged them from high-end caterer to high-end caterer, but wasn't satisfied with any of them.

"Everything tasted fine to me," said Erik, after the fourth.

"No, it wasn't right, we can do better. I couldn't bear to let you down Charles, we must keep trying."

She gave Charles that look, the one that had got him into all kinds of trouble as a child and he folded like the lousy poker player he was. Erik was suddenly struck by inspiration.

"Mrs Adelmann runs a high class catering business, well, it's mostly her son who runs it since she's about a hundred and fifty. Why don't we try them?"

Raven knew Mrs Adelmann from the self-defence courses she taught at the synagogue. Raven had been awarded the accolade of being allowed to call her "Becky". Charles was allowed "Rebecca". Erik was definitely still on "Mrs Adelmann".

A phone call later and they met at Mrs Adelmann's premises. She greeted them enthusiastically, except for Erik, and they got down to business, assisted by her son. Thanks to him keeping Raven and his mother on point, they agreed a menu of traditional Jewish specialities and light, modern dishes in a surprisingly short time. They left full to the brim with delicious food and loaded with sample boxes. Charles could hardly walk he'd eaten so much. Mrs Adelmann kissed Raven like a long lost daughter, embraced Charles like a favourite nephew and bestowed a brief, unsmiling handshake on Erik.

Suits for the groomsmen and dresses for the bridesmaids had to be sorted out.

"Why are they even called "bridesmaids" when neither of us is a bride?" asked Erik.

"I think I'd make a lovely bride," says Charles, pressing up against Erik.

Erik wrapped his arms around him.

"I've seen you in drag, you would make a lovely bride."

"Ooo, there's an idea. Suits for everyone and I'm the only one wearing a dress."

"Very funny, Charles," said Raven.

"It's not funny, it's inspired. Something draped, a bit Grecian. Not white, but maybe one of the new nudes."

"You're not serious, Charles?" said Raven, looking rattled.

"No darling, of course not. We'll all be in suits and Erik can wear the dress. A nice green to match his eyes and short to show off his lovely legs."

Erik laughed his head off. Raven had a major sense of humour failure and wouldn't talk to Charles for three days. This meant all wedding business had to be passed from Raven through Erik to Charles and vice versa. Charles thought it was hilarious. Erik found it maddening.

Raven frogmarched Erik, Armando, Alex, Sean and Christian (fucking Christian) round assorted menswear stores. Erik wasn't choosing his own outfit. Charles had insisted they'd do that together and without Raven. According to Raven he was there for his "valuable input". Erik's valuable input consisted of saying "that looks alright" and "that looks OK too". After four hours they ended up back at Armani, where they'd started, and Raven chose the anthracite suits, light blue shirts and cobalt blue ties they'd tried on first thing. The only one who didn't seem beaten down by this experience was Christian, who thoroughly enjoyed himself flirting with the staff, teasing Armando and Alex in an arch and irritating manner and prancing around like a peacock, thus confirming every bad thought Erik had ever had about him.

For some reason Raven decided Charles was going to "help" with the choosing of the bridesmaids' dresses. Off he went, early one Saturday, to meet up with Raven, Lorna, Moira, Emma, Gabby and Lilandra.

"Wish me luck, darling, I'll need it," he said, looking like he was going over the top in a WWI movie.

Erik gave him a good luck smooch and an ass grope for extra luck. He spent the day mooching around in sweatpants and a sleeveless tee, doing a bit of housework, reading, catching up on a documentary series about mutant rights he'd missed first time around, baking scones (some with cheese and some with dried fruit) and generally bring blissfully unbothered by wedding shit. About six o'clock he heard the front door open, then a loud crash and raucous laughter.

"Ssshhhh!" That was Charles.

"It's six p.m. Charles, we're not sneaking home at three in the morning." That was Emma.

"Erik often has a nice nap in the afternoon, I wouldn't want to disturb him." Charles sounded drunk.

"Oh my god, my dad is such an old man." That was Lorna, who also sounded drunk.

"Charles, you're being ridiculous." Raven, sounding stone cold sober and bummed out.

"This is my home and if you're not going to be quiet you can leave and go to your own homes and make as much noise as you like, but in my home you will be quiet," said Charles, with great dignity and in the loudest whisper Erik had ever heard.

There was a lot of giggling and shushing and shuffling and whispering. The door creaked open. Charles, Lorna and Moira poked their heads round the door and stared at Erik, who was trying desperately hard not to laugh.

"It's OK, he's awake," yelled Charles, pushing open the door and hurling himself on Erik.

Yep, he was drunk alright. Lorna, Moira, Gabby and Lilandra all fell into the room after him, literally, and ended up in a shrieking heap on the floor. Emma stepped in, looking immaculate and highly amused, and picked her way round the chaos to sit on the sofa next to Erik and Charles. Raven followed, face like thunder. Charles snuggled into Erik's arms and projected love and warmth and "want to fuck you" at him. From the reactions of everyone else, he'd accidentally included them all.

"Ew, gross, that's my dad you're thinking about!"

"Aww, so sweet, still so horny after all these years."

"Can we watch or, possibly, join in?"

The women on the floor struggled to their feet and arranged themselves on the other sofa. Erik looked at Emma.

Every store we went to plied us with free champagne, or something resembling champagne. I had herbal tea, Raven had a melt down.

Looking at Raven he could well believe it.

"So, did you find what you wanted?"

Raven opened her mouth to reply, but was drowned out.

"Oh, yes, yes, yes! They're lovely, in this beautiful textured silk," said Moira.

"They've got straps with sort of floaty handkerchief things on. So pretty," said Lorna, waving her arms around in what was, presumably, a floaty handkerchief kind of way.

"Material's cut in, I mean, on the bias, so it drains, I mean, drapes and hangs so good," slurred Gabby.

"Iruddescant, like buffly wings, one minute moff, no, mauve, next minute bluuue," managed Lilandra.

Charles, who had been dozing on Erik's shoulder, suddenly sat bolt upright and said:

"That dress, like that dress, the blue and black dress, except I know it was white and gold."

This caused an outcry of mixed agreement and disagreement. Lorna got out her phone and Lilandra her iPad. They goggled "the dress" and started shoving their devices under everyone's noses, arguing their opinions. Erik had no clue what they were talking about. He looked at Lorna's phone. A picture of a blue and black dress, so what?

"Erik!" cried Charles, looking betrayed, "It's white and gold!"

"What are you talking about? It's clearly blue and black."

"Noooo! Call off the wedding, we're completely incompatible."

Charles clung to him like a limpet, so Erik wasn't too alarmed by this sudden declaration.

"Your dresses are nothing like that dress!" shouted Raven.

Everyone went quiet.

"Jesus! I was so embarrassed in those stores. It was just like that scene from "Bridesmaids"."

Erik knew what she was talking about since she and Charles had forced him to watch that film.

"Oh, come on, Raven, no doubt they were bit rowdy, but there wasn't any projectile vomiting or explosive diarrhoea," he said.

"Emma threw up," said Raven, looking accusingly at Emma.

Everyone looked at Emma, who appeared totally unruffled.

"Hey, it's not her fault. Morning sickness is horrible, isn't it, my poor, lovely wifey wife," said Moira, stroking Emma's hair.

Everyone stared at Moira, then back at Emma, who started laughing.

"Oh, sugar, you were the one who didn't want to tell anyone."

"I was?"

"Yes, honey."

"Why?"

"Something about jinxing things."

"Huh." Moira seemed to be considering something. "I'm kind of an idiot. Emma, I'm very sorry your Dom is an idiot."

Emma shook her head and laughed and laughed. The others clustered round her. There was a babble of:

"You're pregnant! How far on are you? How did you manage it? Do you have a baby bump?"

"I'm seventeen weeks pregnant. We went to a very highly regarded clinic, they worked their magic and here we are. Yes, I do have a baby bump, it's small, but it's there."

"It's not magic, it's genetics, Emma, genetics," said Charles, disapprovingly.

Suddenly he broke into a dazzling smile, shouted "Congratulations!" and clambered over Erik to hug Emma and Moira. Everyone, except Erik, joined in and it turned into a massive hug-fest. Emma and Moira thanked everyone and talked about when the baby was due and the preparations they'd made (none) and the gender (they didn't want to know).

"The process of creating sperm from bone marrow cells ensures the baby will - " began Charles, at which point he was shouted down.

Erik peered surreptitiously at Emma's stomach. For some inexplicable reason he really wanted to feel her baby bump.

I don't mind, sugar, let me check with Moira and Charles, no, they don't mind either. Feel away.

Erik leant forward and very gently placed his hand on Emma's stomach. Yes, there was a small bump. It felt soft. A life was in there, a new life growing inside Emma. He stared at her with a kind of wonder. She looked proud and just a tiny bit tearful.

"Oh my god, we have got to have babies as soon as we're married," said Charles and kissed Erik fiercely.

Erik kissed him back and said, "You do know I can't get pregnant?"

Everyone hung around for ages, drinking coffee (tea for Charles, lemon and ginger for Emma), eating scones, sobering up a little and talking babies, weddings, aeronautics (Lorna), genetics (Charles, though they tried to stop him), medieval weaponry (Lilandra was getting into swords) and the latest political scandal (Gabby).

When they'd finally gone, Erik made love to Charles on the sofa. He took it slow and leisurely, worshipping Charles with his hands, mouth, cock and mind. Charles told him how perfect he was with every word he spoke, every movement of his body, every tremble of his telepathy and every pulse of his come. 

Erik was in a great mood for the next couple of days, until Raven told him about the boat full of doves that he and Charles were going to get aboard. They'd float out onto the lake, the doves would be released and it would all be incredibly romantic.

"And we'll be covered in dove shit," said Erik to Charles when they were alone.

Charles howled with laughter.


	21. Chapter 21

Wedding shit came thick and fast now. A chamber orchestra would play them down the aisle and during dinner. A band and a DJ had been hired to provide dance music. There would be three marquees, one for the ceremony, one for the dinner and dance and one for a breakfast bar for those who made it through the night. The house would be set up to receive guests in case the weather was really bad.

As Erik had predicted, Raven made them taste a dozen different cakes. Erik, who disliked sweet things, felt decidedly queasy by the time they, or, rather, Raven, had settled on one. Even Charles, who would happily gorge on chocolate and biscuits and cake, was looking a bit green around the gills. Then they had to choose how the cake would be decorated. As far as Erik could see most of the choices were various types of flowers and slightly varying lacy patterns. Raven turned the page and he and Charles, who was pretty lethargic at this point, perked up. The cake in the photograph had been decorated to look like a waterfall was flowing down it, among rocks and moss and ferns.

"Oh, that's lovely," said Charles.

"I mostly don't give a shit, but that is genuinely nice," said Erik.

"Excellent," said Raven, clapping her hands together so loudly they both startled.

Back home Erik sat on the sofa and Charles lay down with his head in Erik's lap.

"I don't feel very well. It's all that cake. I feel a bit sick."

Erik got him some sparkling water and rubbed his tummy till he felt better. They had a green salad for dinner that evening.

Charles couldn't care less who performed the ceremony.

"I'd kind of like a rabbi," said Erik.

"Why? I know you go to services every now and then, but you don't really believe in anything anymore."

"I think . . . I think it's what my mama would have liked."

Charles kissed him. "In that case a rabbi you shall have."

Erik kissed him back. "I might have trouble finding one who'll perform a ceremony for an atheist and a mostly non-practising Jew."

Charles rolled his eyes. "Ask Gabby, you idiot."

"That's a great idea, but don't call me an idiot."

Charles gave him his best haughty smile.

"I call it as I see it."

Erik pushed him down on the sofa and pinned him. Charles put up quite a fight, his sessions at the gym were paying dividends, but he had no chance against someone with Erik's unarmed combat training.

"Take that back."

Charles stuck out his tongue.

"Take it back or take the consequences."

Charles sneered. "You don't scare me you big bully."

Erik flipped him over, dragged him across his knees, tore down his pants and brought the flat of his hand down hard on those lovely buttocks. Charles squealed. God, he always made such gorgeous noises. Erik gave him six on one buttock, then six on the other. Charles wriggled and cursed and kicked and moaned. All the while he was broadcasting: 

yesgoodharderyesgoodsubsogoodforme

Erik got him off his lap and face down on the sofa, with a couple of cushions under his hips. He parted his burning cheeks and tickled his hole with the tip of his tongue. Charles stilled. Erik licked all round the rim, revelling in the taste of sweat and musk and concentrated Charles, then he pointed his tongue and pushed in.

Yes, yes, yes, so good, Erik, so good, my sub, mine, mine, lovely, perfect.

Erik tongue fucked Charles until he was squirming and swearing non-stop.

"Fuck, you fucker, you lovely fucker, you perfect arse licker, love your tongue, love you, you dirty fucker."

Charles shared how it felt, the soft, wet pressure of Erik's tongue inside him. Erik withdrew and went to summon the lube.

No, just spit, I really want to feel it.

Erik obediently spat on Charles' hole, then on his fingers. He worked one in very carefully, taking his time, determined not to hurt Charles.

Sometimes I like it when it hurts. Give me another finger right now.

His mental tone was positively imperious. Erik couldn't disobey. He took his ring-finger out and got as much spit on it and his forefinger as he could. He pushed in. Charles' mind was a whirl of painpleasure. He finger fucked him slowly at first, gradually building up speed, then adding a third finger and targeting his prostate. Charles sent him a little burst of rapture every time his fingertips made contact. Erik was going to add a fourth finger when Charles demanded:

cockcockcocknownownowprickdickcocknow

Erik put his hand to Charles' mouth and he spat copiously into Erik's palm. Erik added yet more of his own spit, slathered it on his cock, then pushed just the head in. Charles' mind was a riot of pain and delight. Erik pushed about half his cock in. The pain spiked. He paused. Charles thrust his hips back impatiently. Erik grinned and pushed all the way in. Another spike of pain. Charles luxuriated in the burn and sting and ache. Erik broke out in a sweat. Fuck, Charles was so tight like this.

tightforyoumydarling

He pulled out completely, paused, then pressed in again. Charles made a hungry, desperate sound. Erik fucked him slowly and deeply. The drag on his cock was amazing. Charles was radiating rapture and, literally, a pain in the ass.

fasterharder

Eirk did as he was told, fucking Charles with greater speed and force. Charles was a perfect balance of agony and ecstasy. He started pushing back against Erik and rubbing himself against the cushions. He was very close now. The sensation of delicious torture peaked and Charles' orgasm pierced him through with unbearable brightness.

Erik pulled out, turned Charles over and came on his come streaked cock and balls. He floated away into that place of perfect submission, where he was utterly owned and at peace.

"Fucking hell you're heavy. I think you need to go on a diet or something," said a grumpy voice in his ear.

Erik pushed himself up on his elbows and gazed down into the red, sweaty face of his Dom.

"Ever the romantic, Charles."

Charles grinned.

"I don't need to be romantic, you're romantic enough for the two of us."

Erik kissed his nose then went to get a washcloth and towel. The sofa cushions were going to need dry-cleaning.

He called Gabby the next day about a rabbi. She called him back a couple of hours later to say it was all done and dusted and Rabbi Judith Kimmel would be happy to officiate at their wedding.

They went out shopping for their outfits at the weekend. Charles fancied something a bit different so they started at Ozwald Boateng. They didn't need to go anywhere else. The fabrics and colours were amazing. Erik ended up with a very dark purple suit and a very pale magenta shirt. Charles choose a pale mauve suit, shot through with silk threads, and a crisp, white shirt with a purple tie. Erik wanted to wear his plaited leather collar. Charles offered to buy him a new one for the occasion, but Erik preferred the one Charles had made himself as a teenager. They took it to a saddlers, who spruced it up a bit.

Lilandra delivered her designs for the rings. They were simple bands with a twist in the centre.

"I'm thinking you can have an inscription that starts on the inside, then comes to the outside after the twist."

"Oh, I love that idea. Some of it would be secret and some of it would be for the world to see. Plus it's like a Möbius strip," said Charles.

"I like it too," said Erik. "Plain, but, literally, with a twist."

"Good. I suggest cobalt for the metal. It's unusual, hypoallergenic, very hard and with a lovely heft to it. Here, feel this, Erik."

Erik levitated the small ingot of cobalt. Yes, it had a nice weighty feel and he liked the bright, white colour.

"Yeah, I like it. Here, Charles, have a feel."

He projected the satisfying weight and hardness of the metal to Charles.

"Hmm, that does feel nice. Right, that's decided."

Erik couldn't help reflecting on how much easier it was to decide things when it was just the two of them and no Raven. Charles gave him a mental shove.

"What do we owe you, Lilandra?"

"Nothing, it's my wedding gift to you, both the design and the metal."

They tried to argue her out of it, but she wouldn't be moved. Charles hugged her and Erik shook her hand. She was one of the few people to give them a wedding gift, as they didn't have a wedding list.

"I'm a billionaire and you run a highly successful security firm. It would be ridiculous for people to buy us gifts. Why don't we ask them to contribute to charity instead?"

Erik thought this was a great idea. They choose a foundation that supported young mutants, a famine relief organisation and, at Erik's suggestion, a rape survivors charity.

The wedding was two weeks away, the 17th of June, and Raven was in a frenzy of list making, phone calls, emails and frantic dashes to various suppliers. Her arrival at the apartment was Erik's cue to exit. He just couldn't bear her in this mood and ended up going for a lot of impromptu runs. His fitness levels had never been better. Charles was more tolerant, but even his patience was wearing thin. When Erik pointed out that he was looking a bit frayed round the edges, he replied:

"It's only a couple of weeks, darling, then we'll be on our honeymoon and free of all this wedding bollocks."

The Xaviers had a place in Nantucket, surrounded by several acres of land and with a private beach. Erik had been there once before for a long weekend. Charles and Raven called it "the cabin". Erik called it "a decent sized house furnished in that simple way that costs a shitload of cash". They were going to spend two weeks there; taking walks along the coast, sailing in Charles' tiny, battered yacht, eating in (Erik enjoyed cooking and Charles was an incredibly appreciative eater) and fucking like monkeys. Erik couldn't wait.

Raven came round to complain about the colour of the uniforms of the waiting staff. 

"I want purple, but the Adelmann's don't have purple, so I had some made up, but they're maroon, not purple, so I'm going to have to send them back and have them redone."

"I'm just going over to Lilandra's to check I've got the ring designs right," said Erik.

Bastard, leaving me at the mercy of planzilla! I'm on the brink of suggesting we have a naturist wedding and everyone's nude.

Erik projected an image of both of them naked and wearing cock rings instead of finger rings. Charles had to cover his laughter with coughing.

"Christ, Charles, I hope you're not coming down with a cold, that would ruin everything!"

Erik made his escape. He showed Lilandra the rings he'd made.

"The twist's a bit abrupt. They'll fit better if you make it more gradual. Yes, that's it, just a tad more, perfect."

"Thanks."

"Have you decided on the inscriptions yet?"

"Yeah, but we're not going to tell each other until the ceremony and I'll do it right before we hand them to each other."

Lilandra smiled. "That is so damn romantic. I bet it was your idea, wasn't it?"

Erik nodded.

Lilandra's smile widened. "Charles looks romantic, but he's really not. I remember going on a moonlight picnic with him. We were gazing into each other's eyes and he had that dreamy look, you know the one, and I said, "What are you thinking?" And he goes, "Did you know that nocturnal mammals have rods with unique properties that make enhanced night vision possible?" and then he just kept going for about five minutes."

Erik laughed. "I'm certain he thinks that is romantic. Our tender moments often end with a genetics lecture. I'm pretty sure I could deliver Genetics 101."

"You really do love him, don't you?"

"It scares me sometimes just how necessary he's become to me."

"Yep, love's some scary shit, huh?"

"Worth it though."

"Yeah."

She had a particularly soft look on her face.

"Lilandra, have you fallen for someone?"

Fierce Amazon she might be, but she still blushed.

"There's this woman. You know I've been getting into swords? Well, I went to this historical reenactment to see 'em being used and there's this gorgeous, dark haired woman, six foot if she's an inch, swinging this two-handed blade like it's a toothpick. Her name's Gail and she's a mediaeval historian, teaching at Columbia, and she does this in her spare time. We got talking and I showed her my jewellery and it all just went on from there. She's a sub, you wouldn't think so to look at her, well, actually you probably would since you're not exactly the stereotypical sub yourself. She's always preferred non-aligned partners, I'm pleased to say. She's . . . she's just . . . oh, I can't describe it."

"Sounds serious."

Lilandra nodded.

"Bring her to the wedding."

"But neither of you know her."

"Lilandra, there are approximately five hundred people coming to this insane affair. I probably know about ten percent of them. Trust me, you could turn up with an entire battalion of historical reenactors and nobody would notice."

"OK, I'll bring bring her along. Thanks, Erik."

"Don't mention it."

* * *

The day finally dawned. Raven was frantically checking the weather forecast every five minutes. It was a baking hot day and storms were forecast later.

"I think we'll make it through the ceremony before it rains, but not through dinner," said Raven.

"Never mind, the house is all set up if we need it," said Charles.

"But it's so much nicer outside," snapped Raven. "God, sometimes I think you don't even care about your own wedding."

She flounced off to harass the many suppliers who were turning up in vans and trucks.

"Fuck, I'll be glad when this is all over," said Charles.

"Me too, baby, me too," said Erik, kissing his hair and stroking his back.

Neither Erik nor Charles had felt in the mood for a stag night, despite Raven's urging. The bridesmaids and groomsmen had all stayed over in the house the night before. This had developed into a kind of impromptu, teetotal stag night. They'd started off eating pizza in the staff kitchen. Erik still couldn't quite get his head around the fact that he was marrying a man whose main residence had three kitchens; the staff kitchen, the family kitchen and the function kitchen.

Charles started reminiscing about playing hide and seek with Raven. Sean suggested they play it now. Everyone thought this was a great idea. They ended up tearing around the house with all the lights switched off, shrieking when they bumped into each other, knocking over priceless antiques and terrifying an unfortunate housemaid who was working late. Erik and Charles hid in a wardrobe and made out until they were discovered by a horrified Lorna. Emma cheated by making them all think she was invisable.

After about an hour of this everyone was boiling. The weather was baking hot. Charles mentioned that they used to go skinny dipping in the lake. Five minutes later they were all standing at the lakeside, stripping off their clothes. The water was cool, but not cold. Someone found an old, plastic ball and they had a sort of water polo match, bridesmaids against groomsmen and grooms. Armando took advantage of the fact that he could grow gills and webbed fingers and toes. Emma grabbed Christian, then turned to diamond and dragged him down. Moira had swum competitively in college and turned out to be just as competitive now. Raven and Charles spent most of the time splashing each other, until Charles got bored and started seeing how long he and Erik could kiss under water. Lorna was mortified.

When they got tired they wrapped themselves up in the towels they'd brought outside and lay on the grass looking at the moon and stars.

"If you take into consideration that the speed of light is 299,792,458 metres per second - " began Charles and couldn't understand why Erik and Lilandra collapsed in helpless laughter.

Raven and Sean ran back to the house and fetched matches, a lighter and marshmallows. They all gathered wood and built a fire. With it being so dry it caught light very easily. They roasted the marshmallows on sticks. The marshmallows got a bit burnt and smoky, but nobody minded. Erik cuddled Charles, Armando was wrapped around Alex, and Moira sat behind Emma, cradling her baby bump. Raven looked a bit lonely. Charles had asked Hank to be a groomsman, but, even with the suppressants, stress sometimes made him change and he didn't want to risk it. Perhaps it was just as well. It would have been even worse if he'd been there. Charles gave Sean a mental nudge and he crawled over to Raven and put an arm round her. 

"Fuck all you couples," said Lilandra. "My bae won't be here till tomorrow. Gabby, Lorna, Christian? Fancy a love pile?"

A chorus of yeses and the four of them snuggled up to each other.

Sean started humming "Happy", then quietly singing. Everybody gradually joined in till they were singing at the tops of their voices. They sang "Walking On Sunshine", "Dancing in the Moonlight" and all got up and danced, "Mr Blue Sky", "Uptown Funk" and all boogied enthusiastically, even Erik, and whispered then shouted "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)".

By this time everyone was starting to yawn, so they trooped back to the house and to bed. Charles was tired, but affectionate, so they gave each other sloppy hand-jobs and fell asleep entwined like ivy.

Erik smiled as he thought about it. Last night had been better than the best planned stag night ever. Charles smiled as he picked up the thought. They wandered outside.

He had to admit that everything looked beautiful. The marquees were up. The gardeners had teased the flowerbeds into the peak of white, purple, blue and magenta perfection. There were cut flowers everywhere, mounds, sprays, fountains and cascades of them. The tables in the dining marquee glittered with silverware and crystal. The catering staff bustled about in their smart, new, purple uniforms.

They wandered around, generally getting in the way, admiring the indoor, well, in-marquee fountains, sampling the food, sniffing the flowers and chatting to Mrs Adelmann and her son.

"What are you doing?"

They both jumped at Raven's shriek.

"The first guests will be arriving soon. Go and change!"

"Surely we've got time - " began Charles.

"No, you have no time and you must change separately. You shouldn't have seen each other last night or this morning, it's bad luck, so you certainly shouldn't see each other from now until the ceremony."

Charles bit his lip. "But we saw each other - "

"Can't you do this one thing for me, Charles? After all the effort I've put into this, the time, the energy, the love!"

She looked close to tears.

"Yes, alright, darling. We won't see each other until the ceremony," said Charles, soothingly.

Just a few more hours, Erik, darling, just a few more hours.

They walked back to the house, kissed lingeringly, then separated, Charles to their bedroom, Erik to one of the many guest bedrooms where, apparently, his things were laid out. Erik showered and took his time towelling himself dry, trying to relax. Raven's hysteria seemed to be rubbing off on him. He felt very keyed up. He did some of the deep breathing exercises that Logan had taught him and managed to calm down a bit. He put on his collar, tugged on some brand new boxers and pulled up his trousers. His deodorant hadn't quite dried, so he lay on the bed with his arms above his head.

God, he was lucky to be marrying Charles. He was kind, mean enough to be interesting, brilliant and funny. He was unbelievably good in bed. He was an amazing Dominant. He was young, beautiful and rich. He could do so much better than Erik. No doubt a fair few people at the wedding would be thinking the same. Not the people they knew, but the various Xavier relatives and the great and the good that Charles' mother had insisted on inviting. They probably thought Erik was marrying him for his money. They probably thought he was too old for Charles; there was a twelve year age difference after all. He wasn't good enough for Charles, a working class nobody without connections or breeding. And what a joke of a sub! Argumentative, unruly, bad mannered and bad tempered. Then there was all that shit with Shaw.

Erik leapt to his feet. His pulse was pounding in his head. His heart was hammering in his chest. His armpits prickled with cold sweat.

"I can't do this," he thought, "I can't go out there to be judged and found wanting. I won't do it."

He ran from the room, barefoot and shirtless.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epic chapter is epic . . .

Erik sprinted downstairs, through the big kitchen at the back, which was heaving with catering staff, shoved his way through the members of the chamber orchestra who were milling about on the rear driveway and headed for the garage. He opened the doors with a wave of his hand and climbed into the old, beat up Land Rover which Charles and Raven used for bombing around the grounds. He didn't have the keys, but then he didn't need them. He focused his powers and the car started. He tore out of the garage, down the driveway, out of the gates and along the road. He nearly ran the first set of traffic lights he came to and had to slam on the brakes and use his powers to stop the car in time.

While he sat there, staring at the red light, skull thrumming with runrunrun, he felt a delicate mental touch almost as familiar to him as his own metal sense. He projected **NO** as strongly as he could. The touch withdrew. The lights changed and he drove off. He felt a cool breeze on the back of his neck. Emma. **FUCK OFF!** The breeze died down. The lights ahead turned red. He stopped more sedately this time. He couldn't seem to think of anything except getting away from all those people, all those expectations, all the ridiculous, overwhelming hype of the wedding.

A car drew up alongside him and the driver sounded the horn. He ignored it. The driver sounded the horn again and kept sounding it. He looked across. It was Charles' blue BMW, but it wasn't Charles driving, it was Sharon. He stared at her. She gestured towards the side of the road and mouthed "pull over". This was surreal. Erik turned away and ignored the frantic honking. The lights changed and he pulled off. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the BMW following him. It pulled alongside. Sharon gesticulated at him. He ignored her. Suddenly the BMW swerved violently, side-swiped the Land Rover and veered across the road. Erik brought the BMW to a careful halt at the side of the road and pulled over behind it. He leapt out of the car, strode over to the BMW, yanked the driver's door open and yelled:

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"There's no need for that kind of language," said Sharon, as cool as a cucumber.

"You could have caused an accident, you could have got us killed!"

"Don't be ridiculous. I knew we were both perfectly safe with your mutation."

He stared at her in helpless bafflement.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to sit down and listen to me."

He didn't move. Sharon sighed.

"Erik, just sit down and listen to me for five minutes. What have you got to lose?"

It was his turn to sigh. He walked over to the passenger side and got in. The air con was on. The leather of the seat felt cold against his bare back. He sniffed the air.

"Have you been drinking?"

Sharon shrugged. "Nothing to speak of. I had three martinis at the bar, then Raven started making a fuss, so I thought I'd be discreet and mix my fourth in the back kitchen. That's when I saw you making a run for it. It seemed a good idea to follow, so, here we are."

"You do know you're over the limit, don't you?"

Sharon made a "pfft" noise.

"We're not here to discuss my sobriety or lack of it. We're here to talk about why you felt the need to flee a society wedding to my son as though pursued by the hounds of hell. No, don't say anything, let me speak."

Erik recognised that tone. An icy hauteur he'd heard Charles use on bullying shareholders. So that was where he'd got it from.

"I never wanted Charles. I loved his father and he wanted a child and it was the done thing, so I had a baby. I hated being pregnant and giving birth was disgusting. I might have been able to love him if only he hadn't been a telepath. I could feel him in my head, even when he was just a tiny baby. It made my skin crawl. Brian loved it, absolutely loved it. He used to play little games with Charles, getting him to guess what he was thinking or find where he was hiding. It didn't matter so much that I didn't love him because his father loved him enough for two. Then Brian died."

She paused.

"I started to drink rather a lot. And I couldn't abide being around Charles. He looks just like Brian you see. You've seen the photos, you must have spotted the resemblance. He was a constant reminder that Brian was gone. Anyway, he had Raven, so he didn't really need me. I remarried and Kurt and Cain bullied Charles. I tried not to notice, pretended I didn't know. Oh, there's no need to look at me like that, young man, I know I've been an abject failure as a mother."

"Couldn't agree with you more," sneered Erik.

She laughed, the bitch actually laughed, a light, tinkling laugh like someone had said something amusing at a cocktail party. Erik thought of the emotional neglect, the coldness, the criticism and the cruelty due to her negligence that Charles had suffered and had to restrain himself from smacking her in the face.

"You can look as murderous as you like, it's all water under the bridge now. The point I'm making is that, despite everything, Charles turned out to be rather wonderful. He's brilliant - I don't understand half the things he says - he's kind - encouraging all those so-called friends to batten on him - and he's absurdly good looking. He's taken the company by the scruff of the neck and is remaking it in his own image, in Brian's image. And for some inscrutable reason he loves you. He could have had anyone, anyone. He could have done so much better, but no, the only sub he wants is you. He adores you. He looks at you the way I used to look at Brian."

She shook her head.

"I don't understand it, I really don't, but his heart is set on you. He'd do anything for you. And you'd do anything for him. I haven't seen much of the two of you, but I can see you're absolutely besotted with him. You'd kill for him. You'd die for him. I'm right, aren't I?"

Erik swallowed. His eyes prickled with tears.

"Yes."

"So why can't you go through with this rather vulgar wedding for him?"

Erik opened his mouth. He closed it again. There was a reason why he was running, but right now he couldn't think of it. All he could think of was Charles. Bright, beautiful, loving Charles. Arrogant, stubborn, annoying Charles. His Charles. His Dom. Why the fuck was he running away from him? Except he wasn't, he wasn't running from Charles, or even the marriage, he was running from the fucking wedding.

"Please don't misunderstand me. I don't like you. I don't approve of you. I'd prefer you not to marry my son, but . . . I . . . I haven't really done much for him, apart from giving birth to him, and I feel . . . I feel . . . if I could do this, if I could help him to marry the man he loves, I'd be making up, just a little, for everything I haven't done."

For just one moment the expression on her face was quite tragic, then it returned to her usual bland, immaculately made-up, carefully maintained, brittle prettiness.

"I need to get back to the wedding," said Erik.

Sharon smiled. "Well, we have two cars, so that shouldn't be a problem."

They took the BMW. Sharon spent the return journey complaining about the expense of the wedding, the vulgarity of the wedding, Raven's attempts to keep her sober and a tiny nick in her nail polish. Erik drove like a maniac, using his powers to avoid crashing. Sharon remained completely unperturbed. They pulled up outside the mansion. Erik hesitated to get out.

"What . . . what shall I say?"

Why the fuck was he asking Sharon? She put her hand on his arm and smiled the most genuine smile he'd ever seen on her face.

"You won't have to say anything, just open your mind to him and let him see the truth."

"Thank you." Two words he'd never thought he'd say to Sharon Xavier.

He dove out of the car. The caterers and musicians stared at the barefoot, bare chested, wild eyed man.

Charles! Baby, please meet me at the bench in the little grove of trees at the back of the house, please.

He didn't get anything coherent back from Charles, just a burst of relief, fear, joy, worry, love, anger and agreement. Erik made his way to the small cluster of birch trees, Charles' mental touch never leaving him, and sat on the bench. His feet were killing him. All that running around barefoot. He felt Charles' Patek Philippe getting closer. He looked up and watched him walk across the grass. He was still wearing his ratty, old jeans and a faded tee. He looked perfectly beautiful and very apprehensive. Erik stood, opened his arms wide and they fell into each other's embrace. Erik opened himself to Charles, his confusion, insecurities, self-doubt, but most of all, his love. Charles bathed him in the golden light of his adoration, tinged scarlet round the edges with exasperation.

I love you, Charles.

I love you, Erik.

They collapsed onto the bench and sat entwined. Charles gazed at him and into him with those intensely blue eyes.

"So, you do want to marry me."

A statement, not a question.

"Yes, God, yes, more than anything."

"But the wedding freaked you out."

Another statement.

"Yes, it was, is, all too much."

Charles looked thoughtful.

"OK, we'll do a runner, get hitched at the City Clerk's office, then go on to Nantucket. You'll need some shoes and a shirt. I'll get my credit card."

Erik gaped at him. He looked perfectly serious.

"Are you serious?"

Charles nodded.

"What about all the guests?"

"They'll have a lovely party at my expense."

"What about Raven?"

Charles shrugged. "She'll get over it."

"What about all our friends?"

"They'll understand."

"What about everybody else?"

"I couldn't give a fuck what they think."

"What about - "

Charles interrupted him with a laugh.

"Erik, I swear, if you say "what about" one more time I won't be responsible for my actions."

Erik laughed. Charles kissed him. Erik kissed back. It went on for some time. When they eventually separated, Erik said:

"You'd do that for me, just leave all this wedding crap behind?"

Charles smiled and stroked his hair.

"Of course. It was what we wanted to do in the first place. Besides, there's not a lot I wouldn't do for you. This is pretty low down on the scale of things I'd do for you."

Erik basked in the glow of Charles' affection. They could just up and go and forget all this bullshit.

"No. Let's do it here and now."

Charles opened his eyes wide.

"Are you sure??

"Yes. I want to marry you in front of your family and our friends and all those high and mighty fuckers. I want the world to see that you're my Dom and I'm your sub and nothing else matters. I'm yours, Charles, I'm yours and I want them all to know it and they can fuck right off if they don't like it."

Charles laughed, eyes bright with tears.

"Yes, they can all fuck right off, the fuckers."

They kissed again.

"Charles! Erik!"

It was Raven, storming across the grass towards them.

"What the fuck is going on? What the fuck are you doing? Everyone is here! Everyone is waiting! And they've been waiting for almost an hour!"

"Raven," said Charles, voice heavy with Dominance, "Please let me into your head."

Raven had got over her teenage fear of having Charles in her mind, but she still expected him to ask permission every time. Erik and most of their friends gave him carte blanche to come and go as he pleased.

She nodded. They stood in silence for half a minute.

"Oh, Charles, I'm so sorry, I've turned this into my wedding, I've made it all about me."

She burst into tears. Charles hugged her tightly.

"I'm sorry too. I should have said something, but I kept silent from some misguided sense of, oh, I don't know what."

She swiped the tears from her blue cheeks.

"We're both idiots," she said.

"Yes, yes we are."

"So's Erik," said Raven.

They both turned to look at him. Charles grinned.

"Oh, yes, Erik is definitely an idiot."

"He's the biggest idiot out of all of us," added Raven.

"Hey," said Erik, "Anymore of that and I'll melt your watch and your earrings."

They hugged.

"What the fuck are you standing here for? Go get changed and get your asses out there," said Raven.

They dashed into the house. They had an ultra quick shower together - Erik had to keep slapping Charles' hands off his cock - got into their wedding outfits and ran down the stairs hand in hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen, after a shortish delay we are ready to proceed with the ceremony. Please stand for the grooms," announced Raven.

"About time, dad," said Lorna, taking his arm. "I thought you'd chickened out or something."

"It's all OK now, sweetheart."

"I'd have married Charles myself if you hadn't turned up," she whispered, making him snort with laughter.

The orchestra struck up something pleasant and classical and Raven led Charles down the aisle. As the Dom, he went first. Charles stood under the chuppah in front of the rabbi and Raven took her place at the head of the groomsmen.

"OK, dad, here we go."

Lorna led him down the aisle. He felt Charles' telepathy embrace him. He projected his best "fuck all y'all" attitude to the great and the good. Charles' amusement wreathed round him. He stepped under the chuppah next to Charles. Lorna went to stand with the bridesmaids.

God, you look beautiful darling. I love you so much.

You look stunning. Fuck, I'm a lucky sub.

No, I'm a lucky Dom.

Erik got through the ceremony in a kind of daze, more aware of Charles' glowing face then anything else. When it came to exchanging the rings, he realised he didn't have them, panicked and reached out with his powers. There they were. He pulled them to him.

"Whoa, Erik," said Sean, "Let me get them out of my pocket first."

Erik realised he was dragging Sean towards him as well as the rings. He stopped and let Sean get them out of his pocket. He levitated Charles' ring into his own hand and dropped his on Charles' palm. Engraving them was against Jewish custom, but then he wasn't really the most traditional of Jews. Charles gazed into his eyes.

"Erik, please engrave your ring with these words: "Your love and submission are the greatest gifts I've ever received.""

Erik felt tears slide down his cheeks. He focused his powers and engraved Charles' words on the ring in an elegant script. Charles slipped the ring onto Erik's finger.

"Charles, these are the words I'm going to put on your ring: "I love you, I submit to you, I am yours always and forever.""

Charles' eyes sparkled with tears. Erik put the ring on his finger. Somehow they got through the rest of the ceremony, eyes fixed on each other's faces. Then they stamped on the glass, everyone cheered and Gabby and the ladies from the synagogue shouted "Mazal Tov!"

They embraced and kissed and Erik levitated them both off the ground and twirled them around in mid-air. Charles was breathless and beaming when he put them down. Everybody rushed forward to congratulate them. There was way too much hand shaking and hugging and kissing. Erik got a bit confused and accidentally kissed Senator Morales, but he didn't seem to mind. He found himself hugging Emma.

Congrats, sugar, you did it, despite all your best efforts to fuck it up.

Fuck you very much, Frost.

Ah, there's the Erik I know and love.

She grinned at him. He grinned back. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Charles embracing his mother and heard him whisper, "thank you". Sharon looked almost human. Then the bridesmaids swarmed him and shoved him onto a chair and hoisted him up and paraded him round the marquee. Across the room the groomsmen were doing the same to a laughing Charles.

"What the fuck? None of you are Jewish!"

"I am," yelled Gabby.

"The rest of us are being ecumenical," shouted Lilandra.

They brought the two chairs together so Erik and Charles could kiss and hold hands. After they'd almost dropped Erik three times they finally put them down. Then it was time for the photos. The ones with relatives and important guests went fairly smoothly. The ones with their friends were a riot. Raven had relaxed completely after her tête-à-tête with Charles. In fact she was one of the worst offenders, mimicking first Charles and then Erik and confusing the hell out of the poor photographer. The rest of them refused to stand still, struck odd poses and pulled stupid faces.

The formal photos were supposed to end with the doves on the lake.

"You don't have to do it, guys," said Raven. "It's pretty stupid now I think about it, plus the sky's getting awful black."

"What do you think, Erik?" asked Charles.

"Fuck it, I think we should go for it. If we're going to be clichéd, let's be clichéd to the max."

Charles laughed, so bright and joyful Erik could hardly bear it.

"Clichéd it is then."

They got on board the boat with the doves, which were in baskets. There was a mechanism to open all the baskets at once that the dove-wrangler explained to them. Erik rowed them out to the middle of the lake. They stood up.

"Gosh, those clouds are dark. This is going to be one dramatic shot," said Charles.

"Did you just say 'gosh'?"

"Oh, piss off you peasant."

"You can't talk to me like that, I'm a married man."

Charles gave a breathless little laugh.

"Married! Oh my god, were married! Oh, Erik, I'm so happy."

They kissed and were really getting into it, when the shouts of the photographer interrupted them. Apparently he was ready to go. Erik took a giggling Charles in his arms and operated the locking mechanism with his powers. The lids of the baskets flipped open. The doves stayed put. Charles gently nudged one of the baskets with his foot. A few flutterings, but that was it. Erik gave a basket a slightly less gentle kick. A few more flutterings, but none of them took flight.

"If you throw one up in the air, the rest will follow," yelled the dove guy.

Charles carefully picked up a dove and launched it upwards. It flapped away, then turned and settled back down on the boat. They burst out laughing.

"Try again," bellowed dove man.

Charles had just picked up another dove, when Erik felt a change in the air. The electrical potential surged up.

"Charles, I think we should - "

There was a flash of lightening, a crack of thunder and the heavens opened. All the doves took off at once, voiding their bowels the way frightened birds do. Erik and Charles were simultaneously drenched with rain and spattered with dove shit.

"Well, you did say we'd be covered in dove shit," gasped Charles, laughing so much he could hardly speak.

"At least the rain will wash it off."

Charles giggled helplessly. "I think you should row us to shore."

"Fuck rowing.'

Erik levitated them to dry land. Charles insisted that the photographer take pictures of them soaking wet and decorated with bird poop. Their friends were in hysterics. Charles rubbed dove crap into Moira's hair. Erik threw shit at Alex and Armando.

"It's supposed to be good luck," said Lorna, then fled, shrieking, pursued by Erik with a handful of poop.

They went upstairs and changed into dry shirts and their tuxedos, grey for Erik, blue for Charles and came downstairs with their hair still damp. They entered the dining and dancing tent - marquee, projected Charles, a tent is something boy scouts go camping in \- and were greeted by a round of applause and whoops from the younger ones. Erik put his head down and hurried to the top table. Charles bowed and curtsied like the vain little git he was.

I heard that.

Can you honestly disagree?

Hmmm, got me there.

Erik had adamantly refused to give a speech. He'd suggested Lorna do it as the closest thing to the father of the bride. She had been equally adamant in refusal, so the speeches started with Charles. He stood up.

"I'm going to keep this short," cheers, "as Raven has something epic planned." Groans. "I met Erik six years ago. He was providing security for the Worthingtons - "

"He saved my life!" interjected Warren.

"Yes, thank you, Warren. I flirted with him and he did his best to ignore me. As those of you who know me are well aware, I'm persistent when I've got my eye on someone - "

"Damn right you are," cried Gabby.

"Truth," added Lilandra.

"Verbal testimony from my previous subs there. I pursued Erik until he gave in. I'm so happy I didn't let him brush me off. Our six years together have been far from problem free, but I've never regretted being with him. He's brave, loyal, drop-dead gorgeous, clever, sardonic and cynical as hell, generous with his time for his true friends - "

A chorus of yeses.

"Stubborn, opinionated, argumentative, gentle and in addition to his amazing mutation, he has the secondary superpower of being able to put up with my arrogant, entitled, privileged arse. That's "ass" in American English."

Laughter.

"He's been the best sub I could possibly hope for, challenging me, supporting me and loving me. Like it says on his ring, his love and submission are the greatest gifts I've ever received."

The audience awww'd. Erik felt his cheeks heat.

"Please stand and raise your glasses to the love of my life, my sub, my partner, my husband, Erik Lehnsherr!"

Everybody stood and repeated, "To Erik Lehnsherr!"

Charles looked at him and raised his glass. His telepathy swept through Erik, warm and bright and uplifting. Erik took Charles' hand and got to his feet.

"This isn't a speech, I'm not making a speech, this is just to say I love you, Charles Xavier and here's to you, my love, my Dom, my husband, yes, my husband and my everything."

"To Charles Xavier!"

Charles couldn't speak. He didn't need to. His mental touch said it all. They sat and Raven stood up.

"As best woman, sister, mutant, whatever, I'd like to thank our mom, Sharon, for letting us use the house and, you know, being our mother and all that."

Raven handed Sharon an enormous bouquet, which she accepted with a raised eyebrow and supercilious smile.

"Thanks to Lorna for giving Erik away. Trust me, if I had a dad like that, I'd want to give him away."

Laughter. Raven handed Lorna a slightly smaller bouquet.

"I'd like to thank the bridesmaids and groomsmen for being complete pains in the ass." More laughter. "No, seriously, they were great and I think it says a lot about Charles and Erik that they have such devoted friends."

Applause. Raven handed little boxes to the bridesmaids and groomsmen, including Lorna. Erik craned over her shoulder to see her gift. It was a fine chain, with a pendent in the form of a scrolled "L", enamelled in a beautiful silvery green and set with a tiny diamond. Everyone had their own initial, each one finished in a different colour.

"Like Erik, I'm not making a speech. Unlike Erik, I'm giving a PowerPoint presentation."

Mixed applause and booing.

"Lights please."

A photo of baby Charles, peachy ass on display, was projected onto the side of the marquee.

"Here we see the first time Charles got naked in public. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be the last."

A picture of Charles reclining on a sleeping bag in what looked like a mobile home, stark naked except for some strategically placed red roses. He'd quirked one eyebrow and was, somewhat unsuccessfully, attempting a sexy pout. Laughter and wolf whistles.

"When Charles finally decided to put some clothes on, his fashion sense can only be described as 'unique'."

A tiny Charles in a blue velvet Little Lord Fauntleroy suit, with lace at the neck and cuffs. Teenage Charles in a tweed jacket with leather elbow patches, a knitted vest top, rust coloured corduroy pants and fingerless gloves. Slightly older Charles in a blonde wig, loads of make-up, a fur coat, a little black dress, high heels, stockings and a full beard. More wolf whistling. Charles was crying with laughter. Erik couldn't stop grinning.

"Charles was always a studious young man. Nothing could distract him from his studies."

Charles drinking from a long necked, wide mouthed, full bottomed glass apparatus. It's a yard of ale, darling. Charles looking completely spaced out, with two blunts dangling from his mouth.

"He was a virtuous Dom, saving himself for the right sub."

Charles entwined with Christian, then Gabby, then Lilandra, then various people Erik couldn't identify, a lot of them looking like Doms. Erik felt a twinge of jealousy. Charles projected onlyyouloveyouonlyoneformethebestpefection.

"Charles, you slut!" That was Christian. Everyone laughed, but like anything Christian said it set Erik's teeth on edge. Charles sent him soothing vibes.

"He studied hard, he worked hard and he played hard."

Photos of Charles asleep with his head on a textbook, snoozing in his office at Xavier Biotech and dead to the world with his face smushed against a chessboard. A bishop was stuck to his cheek.

"A true and loyal friend to his many beloved companions, including me."

Charles and Raven looking about twelve, him pulling her hair, her kicking his shins. Charles drawing a penis on the cheek of a sleeping Alex. An enraged Raven hurling a full glass of wine in the face of a smug looking Charles. Sean chatting to Armando, while under the table Charles ties their shoelaces together. Emma and Charles throwing a screaming Moira into a scummy pond. Gabby and Lilandra smiling at the camera while Charles gives the finger with both hands in the background. A furious Charles with dyed purple hair, shouting at a cackling Raven.

Alex did a double take. "So it was you who drew that penis! That was permanent marker, Xavier, I scrubbed my face raw trying get it off!"

"Shit, Charles, I knocked a tooth out," said Sean, mournfully.

”Sorry," said Charles, not looking or sounding the least bit sorry.

"Then he met Erik, action man Erik, sexy Erik, obedient submissive Erik."

There was a picture of Erik in his army uniform. Where the hell had she gotten that? Another photo of Erik with the most ridiculous "herp, derp" expression on his face and a third of Erik punching some Dom in the face. God, he'd forgotten all about that. Cheers from the audience.

"They never disagree."

Charles and Erik chest to chest, yelling at each other.

Was that the Middle East row or the civil disobedience vs violent protest fracas?

Erik couldn't remember. Could be either, or any of a dozen other fights.

Charles laughed. Erik grinned.

"They have similar temperaments."

Erik and Charles sitting side by side, Erik scowling furiously, Charles with a dazzlingly bright smile.

"They have similar interests."

Charles reading animatedly from "American Scientist" while Erik rolled his eyes.

"Charles loves Erik for his personality."

Erik in tight jeans and a sleeveless tee, bending over the open hood of a car, smudges of oil on his biceps and one cheekbone. Cue the loudest and most prolonged wolf whistles yet.

"Damn, Charles, your bae is fine," called Angel.

"Erik loves Charles for his mind."

Charles in fitted black pants and a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show his muscular forearms and the collar undone just one button too many. Collective intake of breath.

"Ooo, Dom me, baby, Dom me," moaned Mrs Adelmann.

Mass eruption of cheering and cat-calls. Charles collapsed onto Erik, helpless with laughter. Erik felt as though his face was going to split in two, he'd been grinning so much.

"I think this picture says it all."

Charles and Erik are looking at each other. Erik scarcely recognised himself, his expression was so soft and loving. Charles is gazing at Erik as though he's the best thing he's ever seen. The crowd awww'd. Charles looked at Erik the way he was looking at him in the photo. Erik kissed him, soft and sweet. The crowd awww'd some more.

"To conclude, please rise and drink a toast to my brother, Charles, and his husband, Erik. Long life and happiness!"

"To Charles and Erik, long life and happiness!"

Raven grinned and added:

"Or to put it another way, live long and prosper!"

Cheers and shouts of "live long and prosper" from the Trek fans, slightly puzzled repetitions of the same from everyone else.

"Raven! That was wonderful. Thank you so much. It was flawless, so funny and then that photo at the end, oh, that was almost too perfect. And the Star Trek quote! You, you, you genius, you!"

Charles and Raven hugged and cried a bit and Erik said "not bad" and Raven punched him on the arm, which hurt as she was fucking strong. The rest of the evening passed in a haze of champagne, kissing Charles, excellent food, more champagne (and Erik didn't even like the stuff), their first dance (to a tune neither of them actually recognised), him and Gabby and the synagogue ladies teaching everyone to dance the Horah, more champagne and more kissing.

The wind and rain battered the marquee, but it held up really well, apart from one section which sprung a sudden leak and drenched Sean, much to the delight of his friends. Charles lent him some dry clothes.

"Best wedding ever," sighed Alex.

Erik was inclined to agree with him. This feeling was confirmed when the cake was brought in, to exclamations of admiration, and a tipsy Christian tripped over his own feet and fell into it. Everyone gazed at the smashed cake and icing covered Christian in horror. The silence was broken by Charles' howls of laughter. Everyone joined in, even Christian to be fair.

"Best money we ever spent," said Erik.

Charles smacked his arm, right where Raven had punched him. They danced some more and kissed and chatted to their friends and drank more champagne. It was about three o'clock in the morning when they slipped away. A lot of guests had already left, but plenty seemed determined to make it to breakfast. They held hands as they walked quietly upstairs to their bedroom.

They slowly undressed each other, worshipping with hands and mouths and skin on skin. Erik laid Charles down on the bed on his back and bound his wrists and ankles with bands of gold and silver. He prepped himself, driving his lubed fingers into his ass with casual brutality, while Charles watched with avid blue eyes. He poised himself above Charles' erect and leaking cock and slid down. He didn't do this often so it burned and stung. He loved it. Charges projected:

tighttighttightsotightsohotsogood

Erik began fucking himself on Charles' lovely, thick cock. He fucked himself with short, fast thrusts. He fucked himself with long, slow strokes. He stopped altogether to gaze down at his husband. Charles writhed and moaned, strong torso and arm muscles flexing rhythmically, sweat darkening his hair and making his rosy skin glisten. He bit his red, red lips and fixed his blue, blue eyes on Erik. He looked like a young emperor, like an ancient god, like his own dear perfect, imperfect self.

movemovemovemovemove

He couldn't disobey that order, freighted as it was with Dominance and telepathic command. He let Charles' power sweep over him, pulling him under, pushing him up.

Use me sir, use me for your pleasure, I'm yours, my husband, yours to do with as you please.

And suddenly his body and his powers were no longer under his control. He felt his powers tighten the bonds at wrist and ankle so they dug into Charles' ivory fresh. He felt the ache in his thigh muscles as he impaled himself on Charles' cock in a fierce rhythm, hammering his own prostate. He felt sweat trickle down from his nape to the small of his back and his ass crack. He saw one hand reach forward to scratch, pinch, twist and tug at Charles' nipples and the other reach backward to fondle Charles' balls, rolling them between his fingers and teasing them with his nails.

I'mcomingmylovemysubmyhusbandsogoodformemyhusband

Then he completely lost track of who was who and who was doing what to who and it was all pleasure and pain and unbearable and perfect and they were coming deep inside their ass, hot and wet, and they were coming on their belly, laying down lovely, pale stripes and they were soaring into subspace, losing themselves in the bright darkness, in the heights and depths.

When Erik came round he could taste the salt of his tears. Charles' face was streaked with tear tracks.

"You . . . you were there, you were there with me in subspace," whispered Erik.

Charles nodded. "I followed you. I didn't know it was possible to do that. It was . . . it was . . . I can't describe it . . . amazing, absolutely amazing. The peace and serenity. What a gift, Erik, what a gift you have given me. I don't know how to thank you."

"You don't need to thank me, any gift I give you is freely given."

They gazed at each other.

"I don't suppose there's any chance of you cleaning us up any time soon, is there?"

Erik burst out laughing.

"Fucking hell, Charles, talk about from the sublime to the ridiculous."

Charles grinned a little shamefacedly.

"Sorry, I'm afraid I'm rather a pragmatic person."

Erik kissed him on the nose.

"And I love you for it."

He trotted off to fetch a towel and washcloth to clean up his husband, revelling in the ache in his ass.


	23. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we come to the end. Thanks to all the loyal readers who stuck with it. I have two favours to ask of you:
> 
> 1\. Please comment and let me know what you thought of it.
> 
> 2\. Let me know if you'd like more of this 'Verse. I have various ideas for a sequel: Babies! Cain! Political shenanigans! Raven/Azazel shenanigans!
> 
> Thank you my dears and goodnight :)

The honeymoon was idyllic. They walked on the beach, picking up shells, pebbles and bits of driftwood. Charles arranged them on a shelf already groaning with bits and pieces which he and Raven had collected. They swam. Charles was a strong swimmer, but Erik was a bit more cautious. Charles had to be constantly slathered with sunscreen or he turned lobster red. Erik did most of the slathering, which led to fooling around in the dunes and sand in awkward places. Erik cooked and Charles got in the way. They drank cheap red wine that they picked up from the supermarket. Charles taught Erik to sail in his ancient, battered sailboat. Erik was a quick learner and found he loved sweeping across the waves, the wind behind him and sea-spray in his face. There was no TV, so they read a lot.

On their last day the weather was blisteringly hot. They opened all the windows and closed all the filmy curtains. As night fell, an offshore breeze picked up and the curtains blew into the room and fluttered like friendly ghosts. They were lying on the big, shabby sofa, not reading, not talking, just being. Erik was in cut-offs and nothing else. Charles was wearing an oversized tee, which was falling off one shoulder, and running shorts. They were both bathed in sweat.

Erik looked at Charles, whose eyes were half closed. God, he was beautiful and he was Erik's husband. His eyes closed completely and he started snoring quietly. Very slowly and very carefully, Erik pulled Charles' teeshirt up to reveal his pale, flat stomach and the dark trail of hair leading to his crotch. Erik pressed a kiss to his belly button. Charles stirred but didn't wake. He pulled the tee up a little further, exposing his dark red nipples. Erik licked a nipple. Charles shifted and muttered:

"Christmas will be golden this year."

Erik had to stifle a snort of laughter. He started pulling down Charles' shorts. There were the dark curls of his pubic hair. A bit further. There was the base of his cock. Further still. There it was in all its glory, a lovely deep pink shaft, with a nice heft to it, and an uncut head. Erik took the head in his mouth and sucked gently. He tasted salty and a little grubby. Charles' eyes opened, he gazed around dazedly and then focused on Erik. He grinned.

"You disgusting pervert, attacking a poor, innocent boy in his sleep."

Erik carried on sucking and projected:

Poor innocent my ass. You're a slutty billionaire.

Charles laughed and gasped:

"I notice you're not, hnnn, denying the, mmm, pervert bit."

You got me there, baby.

Charles moaned and lay back on the sofa, one hand behind his head, the other tangled in Erik's sweaty hair. He was fully erect now. Erik pulled off and licked him from root to tip. He flicked his tongue on Charles' frenulum. He very gently nibbled all the way up and all the way down his shaft. Charles groaned and his hips twitched. Erik took him into his mouth again. He curled and wiggled his tongue, then wrapped his fingers round the base and stared bobbing his head. Charles' fingers tightened in his hair. Erik took him down as far as he could, gagging a little as he couldn't deep throat, and upped the pace.

Yes, yes, perfect, darling, perfect.

Charles was fighting not to thrust into Erik's mouth. Erik hollowed his cheeks and hummed. The vibrations pushed Charles over the edge. He gave a desperate little cry and spurted down Erik's throat. Charles' orgasm swept through Erik, but he managed not to come. He draped a boneless Charles over the back of the sofa and knelt up behind him. He levitated the lube over by its metal cap and coated two fingers. Erik pushed them into Charles. He prepped him briskly, sliding in and out of that clenching heat. When he pushed his prick in, Charles still felt deliciously tight.

"I'm going to fuck you until you get hard again. I'm going to fuck you until you come again."

"Oh, Erik, yes, yes, yes."

Erik fucked him slow and steady. He didn't speed up when Charles begged and pleaded, out loud and in his head. He didn't slow down when his thighs started to ache and his buttock muscles began to burn and his knees protested. He just kept fucking into him, like a machine, like a metronome, fucking him and fucking him and fucking him, hitting his prostate as regular as clockwork.

Charles was sobbing now, submerged in sensory overload. His ass cheeks were bright red from Erik slamming into him. The slap of skin on skin mingled with the sound of the wind and waves. Erik reached for Charles' cock. He was hard again. Erik stroked him and carried on thrusting. They were both close. Then Charles' rectal muscles were spasming around Erik's cock and he was coming on Erik's fingers and the back of the sofa. Erik wrapped his other arm round Charles' throat, pulled him upright, sank his teeth into the nape of his neck and came deep inside him. Everything whited out.

Charles' face swam into focus as Erik surfaced from subspace.

"Yet more sofa cushions for the dry-cleaners," said Charles.

* * *

Azazel had done a good job of running Lehnsherr Security while Erik had been away. Charles was forced to deal with some sort of Xavier Biotech boardroom bollocks as soon as he went back to work. At least things were under control in the laboratory.

Emma and Moira came round for dinner. Erik cooked. Emma was looking very pregnant. After they left, Erik felt broody and raised the subject of children again. Charles was pretty keen too. They talked it over for a couple of weeks, on and off, and in the end decided to opt for surrogacy. They visited several agencies, all of them highly reputable. Charles had a ball discussing the scientific aspects of producing an egg with their DNA. It was all way over Erik's head. They choose an agency based on reviews, their visits and Charles' mental scans of a random selection of staff.

"They were just brief, surface scans, so not really illegal," rationalised Charles.

"Hey, you know I think we should be able to use our mutations more freely. No need to justify it to me, baby."

They had to fill out reams of paperwork, most of it on-line, thank god. While they were waiting for a response, Charles told Raven, who got very excited and insisted the whole gang go out for a drink. This resulted in a hacked off Erik listening to a drunken Charles throwing up in the bathroom for half the night. He made a lot of noise in the morning just to get his revenge on his hungover husband.

Two weeks later they got a phone call from the agency. They'd identified a suitable surrogate mother and would Mr and Mr Xavier-Lehnsherr like to come in and meet her? The answer was a resounding "yes".

Come the day of the meeting they were both very nervous. Charles changed his clothes three times. Erik accidentally fried the toaster. Time to go.

"Are you ready for this?" asked Charles.

"Let's find out," said Erik.

They kissed and left the apartment hand in hand.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I Prefer Magenta (Remix of 'Purple is for Emperors')](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11420631) by [FuryRed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuryRed/pseuds/FuryRed)




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